


Across the Universes

by snowmissus (soul_of_blaze)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Marriage, Minor Angst, ReShirement, heck im gonna use that tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:51:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 32,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6690364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soul_of_blaze/pseuds/snowmissus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I decided to collect all of my tumblr posted oneshot fics and post them all together here. If they're already posted individually here then I won't add them into this, but for the sake of them all being somewhere I can find... here you go! I will be dating them and there will be a brief description of each. </p><p>Enjoy!</p><p>Newest chapter(s): 47 - Wellness <br/>48 - Frodo and Thorin <br/>49 - Death</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lake-town

**Author's Note:**

> March 2014. Bilbo and Thorin are married in Lake-town. It was written for my platonic love and soulmate, Jonna.

It’s the night before they depart for Erebor that it happens, and Bilbo will never be able to quite explain the exact events of that night. Not because he doesn’t remember them, and he does well remember, but as in the end, that night becomes painful in memory.

But in the eve of celebration, of knowing they’ll make it to the mountain, he does not know anything but relief and shared happiness.

 

In fact, being squeezed between the youngest two of their company, Bilbo feels nearly at home for once. He cannot quite explain that, for his life has always been one of peace and little company. Still, when Fili stands up in excitement Bilbo does not even mind the jostling. While his brother disappears, Kili stays seated and every so often, Bilbo noticed his attention drift from the merriment to his leg. It worries the hobbit enough for him to question it.

“Are you alright?”

His voice startles the youngest dwarf, but he quickly averts his eyes with a scowl. His hand covers the injury on his thigh.

“I’m fine,” he snaps, as quickly as he averted his eyes moments ago. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? That is not nothing, Kili!” Bilbo frowns, reaching over to check the wound but before he can the dwarf slaps his hand away. He wants to say, ‘You are acting like a fauntling, honestly’ or ‘Only my youngest cousins act like this’ but he doesn’t because it strikes him then that he has never felt protective over any of his young cousins.

Bilbo does not push the issue with Kili, instead he looks back over at the rest of the company. They’re the only ones in this house, a house the Master of Lake-town granted them for the night, and the dwarves take this as means to be as loud as possible.

He thinks that some of the may be putting forth so much effort in case this is their last happy moment.

Across the room, he feels the gaze of Thorin on him all of the sudden. Though he shrinks back a bit, it does not stop him from watching the dwarf. He stands with Balin, and though they are talking, his gaze keeps steadily on Bilbo. It is more than a little unnerving.

It is not as if their relationship has been strained. No, in fact, after the Carrock, Bilbo had thought they were getting on well! And he had broken them out of the Elven King’s Halls.

Before he can think much more on it, Thorin heads across the room with Balin behind him. None of the Company seems to notice, which lets both dwarves all the way over to Bilbo. Thorin comes to a stop in front of Bilbo, but simply stands there and _stares_ down at him.

“Oh, er, hullo, Thorin,” he manages under the heavy gaze of the Dwarf King. Beside him, Kili shifts and looks away from them.

“A moment of your time, Master Baggins,” what Thorin says should be a question, at least to Bilbo, but it sounds much more like a demand. “Alone,” he adds, and Balin has no apparent problem with this, as he nods and turns back into the merriment of the Company. Kili does not move. “Kili.”

“Don’t look at me like that, Uncle,” he grumbles. “I’m not moving!”

“Ah ha,” Bilbo stands up a bit too quickly, causing Thorin to take a surprised step backwards. “I’m sure it would be better if we went somewhere… private?”

After a moment, Thorin nods. “Yes, that would be better. Smart as always, Master Baggins.”

“Yes, well,” Bilbo sends him a confused look but then lets Thorin lead them out of the large room. There are several rooms in this house, and as all of them are unoccupied, they simply shuffle into the nearest one. It’s a bedroom, much smaller than the room where he can still hear the Company.

“What is it?” He asks, before Thorin has even shut the door. When he has, Thorin turns his head and then indicates for Bilbo to sit down. Though frustrated, Bilbo does sit down and waits until Thorin has sat down next to him before he demands more information. “Is it about Erebor? I know you are probably nervous, but Thorin-”

“No,” Thorin interrupts him too quickly, for he then hangs his head for a moment. “Perhaps it partly is but I am not nervous about taking back my home, Bilbo.”

The use of his first name catches him off guard. While not the first time the dwarf has used it, the times he has used it surface. Memories of a heated night under Beorn’s roof and of stolen kisses in the dungeons of Mirkwood, which cause him to fluster a bit and look over at Thorin again. The dwarf lifts his head and smiles softly.

“Well, what is it you need then?”

“Were it a different time and place, I would have done this the proper way, but I cannot and I fear that…” he trails off, clears his throat a few times and then reaches for Bilbo’s hand. Bilbo squeezes the hand, unsure of what exactly is going on. “Never mind that, it is not important, just a silly fear I shall not share with you. Bilbo, _ghivashel_ , I would like to marry you.”

“Oh,” he says, because that is all he can manage now. And Thorin has never called him _ghivashel_ , whatever that is.

“Tonight.” Thorin clarifies.

“ _Oh_ ,” Bilbo says, louder and this time because he honestly has no idea what to say to that. Then, a moment later as he stares dumbly at the dwarf, his thoughts catch up to him and he yanks his hand out of Thorin’s in surprise. “What?”

“I am certain you heard me,” Thorin does not look wounded, but he does not look entirely confident in that moment.

“Yes, I did, but Thorin,” he glances away and then back in a matter of a few seconds. “Don’t you think we should, I don’t know, _wait_?”

“No,” the word comes out harsh, and when Bilbo registers the hardening of the look on Thorin’s face, something inside him stirs. “I do not believe I can wait much longer, Bilbo.”

“Well,” he says in a flustered way, after a long moment of staring at Thorin. “Well, we don’t… don’t we need someone to-”

“I have already had a discussion with Balin,” Thorin says, his voice becoming gentle as he finds Bilbo’s hand again. Bilbo does not yank his hand back this time. “He can officiate the marriage, in fact he is the only one who can as there are very few who are allowed to marry the King.”

“Ah, yes,” he does not really know much about dwarf marriage or anything of that nature, but what Thorin says sounds true enough. Thorin presses a kiss to the palm of his hand, nodding once and then standing up.

“I will go get him, it will not be a moment.”

When the door clicks shut after Thorin has left, Bilbo finds himself with just his thoughts. This is not how he thought any of life would go, certainly he had not thought he’d be marrying a dwarf (much less a King) nor would he be marrying said dwarf on the eve of the end of a rather dangerous adventure. And, he realizes with a shock, with no prepared vows! Part of his Baggins side begins yelling at him, from the truly improper nature of it, and for once his Took side did not spark in reply.

But he is not left long with his thoughts, for just as he begins thinking in such a manner, the door opens. Thorin walks calmly in with Balin, who smiles widely at Bilbo.

Thorin pulls Bilbo to his feet, bringing him standing by the dwarf king’s side. They stand in front of Balin, while Bilbo fidgets until he can no longer stand it. Just as Balin opens his mouth to say something, he blurts out his words.

“We don’t even have any vows!”

Thorin looks at him in surprise before he bows his head slightly in an apologetic manner.

“As I said, if we had the time I would do this properly, but we do not,” Thorin slides a hand onto his shoulder, squeezing it. The hobbit opens his mouth as if to say something but shuts it. “If you like, when we have reclaimed Erebor it would not be out of the question to be married in front of my people—with vows.”

“You have to promise,” Bilbo says, finding his Tookish side back in place suddenly. “We will be married properly or I will make quite a ruckus within Erebor until we are!” Thorin looks amused, causing Bilbo to cross his arms over his chest. “I will and if you doubt it then you are not very wise.”

“Of course, _ghivashel_ , I would not deprive you of what you wish.”

Thorin’s smile soft, all his features kind and loving, sends Bilbo’s heart thumping. They stare at each other for a while, before Balin clears his throat and drags their attention back to him. Embarrassed, Bilbo looks past the head of the other dwarf while he speaks in Khuzdul. He cannot understand a word but what sounds like Thorin’s name and his.

“Bilbo,” Balin says, snapping his attention again back onto him. “This must be done completely in our language. Thorin,” he eyes the king before he looks back over at Bilbo. “Thorin will inform you of the traditional vows, though you only need repeat the last bit.”

Of course, the words are all in Khuzdul. When it comes to what he has to repeat back to Balin, Bilbo stumbles over the words as they do not roll off his tongue easily. But Thorin seems to care none. The moment he has said the words, Balin nods and smiles before he quickly leaves the room. Before Bilbo can wonder why, Thorin leans down and claims the hobbit’s mouth with his.

And in the morning, Thorin says nothing of it. But when given new clothes, Bilbo finds that he and Thorin have, yes, matching cloaks which he finds rather nice. When they board the boat, despite the issue with Fili and Kili, Bilbo finds himself being seated just behind Thorin. He does not understand the implications of this, though the Company exchange suspicious glances at what that could mean. 


	2. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 2014. Set in an Erebor AU, Thorin has a nightmare about past events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extremely minor angst warning?

“You,” he hisses, fingers clenching. “You!” He could not begin to believe this claim spilling from the mouth of his most loyal and trusted friend. But no, no, as he seized Bilbo with both his hands, no the hobbit was not true to him. 

Thorin had been fooled, out witted by the terrible creature. 

“You miserable hobbit! You undersized burglar!” The King shakes the wretched hobbit, his anger taking over any rational thought or action. Nothing else breaks through, not the Company behind him yelling in surprise as he surges forward toward the edge of the gate and dragging Bilbo with him. 

“By the beard of Durin! I wish I had Gandalf here! Curse him for his choice of you! May his beard wither! As for you I will throw you to the rocks!” With those words, he lifts Bilbo up and dangles him over the edge of the Gate.

“No,” Bilbo cries, shaking as he tries to push the hands away while wildly swinging his feet for the safety of ground. “Thorin, please, I just wanted to-”

“I would not listen to a word from your treacherous tongue, thief!” And despite the shrieks not only from the hobbit, but his company behind him as well, Thorin shoves and lets go.

A moment later, something sinks in. A terrible, wretched feeling that engulfs him. What has he done? 

He stumbles forward, lurching over the edge of the Gate. He cannot see anything down there but he can hear the horrified noises coming from below. As he falls to his knees, clawing at his own chest because he can not seem to breathe any longer, he feels the slide of furs and a warmth that contests with the outside gate. 

Thorin gasped away, shoving off the numerous furs. He shook but no, he was not outside, he was… He looked around, confusion spilling into mind but for a moment. Ah. He was in Erebor, in the middle of the night. One of his hands smoothed out the other side of the bed but it was empty.

Apparently not in control of his limbs, Thorin fell out of the bed and onto the ground with a groan. It took more than a few attempts for him to stand and a various amount of staggering back and forth. The door at the end of the room pushed open under the weight of his shoulder.

A small fire warmed the room it opened up into. By the side of the fire, a small figure sat reading. 

Though staggering, he did finally make it to the figure. There, he dropped to his knees and leaned against his knees. Bilbo glanced away from his book with a surprised smile but it melted into a frown.

“Thorin?”

“You,” he managed, gripping Bilbo’s knees. “You are alive. I-”

“Thorin,” he soothed instead, resting a steady hand on his shoulders where Thorin’s shook. “I am fine, as I always am.”

“Bilbo, how can you even begin to… forgive me?” The King leaned his forehead onto Bilbo’s knee. 

“You have apologized a thousand times more than necessary, Thorin, shush, I have long ago forgiven you and you know that,” Bilbo forced his chin up and then smiled sadly at him. “I cannot say when this will be righted for you.”

Thorin sobbed, quietly and only his shoulders shook, into his shoulder when the man gathered him into a hug. His hands were tight on Bilbo’s back, but not for grip or to assure him that the hobbit would not disappear under his hands. This grip was to keep him there, else he might fall away from the reality again.


	3. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 2014. The arranged marriage AU I will probably never finish! Bilbo inspects Thorin's scars.

Bilbo’s fingers trace over the puckered skin. The frown on his face Thorin can’t see, as the hobbit sits behind him and looks at his back. It’s not bad, per se, but it is not a good state for someone’s back to be. Not to hobbits, anyway. 

Leading lives of comfort, scars come in rare form and only ever from falling on sharp rocks as faunts. 

Dwarves do not fall on sharp rocks so easily, and certainly not ever for the result of a scar, what with their thick armor and all. Bilbo tries desperately not to imagine where these scars come from but he fails. His fingers stutter over a scar that runs longer, deeper than the rest. Thorin must notice, as he shifts against Bilbo’s fingers. 

They both pause, his fingers still on the longer scar and the dwarf’s head bows. A moment passes and the muscles of his back, below the slightly marred skin, shift. 

Dragging in a breath, Bilbo brings his pointer finger up and follows the clear space of his husband’s back until he hits another scar. It’s minuscule, at least compared with the one he’d been tracing. Like a starburst in the middle of his right shoulder blade. 

“Frerin,” Thorin’s voice startles Bilbo, who withdraws his fingers as if he’d been shocked.

“When we were young, Frerin wanted to use a bow and arrow. He was not so good, although he practiced diligently. His aim was awful and after he shot me in the shoulder on accident, our mother would not let him near anything but a sword.”

Bilbo snorts, imagining the two princes as children and the younger of the two accidentally shooting his older brother in the shoulder. “Shouldn’t you have a more, hm, impressive story for that?”

“It was a learning experience.”

“And what exactly did you learn from that?” Bilbo’s hands drift back to the longer scar, tracing it with two fingers. It cuts around his side but as his fingers follow it, he can feel that it ends with its curve around the side. 

“Never let a son descended from Durin have a bow,” Thorin’s breath hitches as Bilbo tickles his side. Dwarves are not too ticklish, unfortunately, but Bilbo had discovered the particular spot. “I cannot convince Kili not to use a bow, but his aim is much better than my brother’s.”

Bilbo moves his hand back, pressing it against the middle of Thorin’s back. He doesn’t ask about the scar he has been tracing. If the prince had wanted to tell him, he would have and he hasn’t said a thing. 

Instead, Bilbo looks at the braids he’d been putting in. Over the past months, since the two had grown more comfortable in their marriage, he’d grown better at putting them in. Better than that, he’d been learning more traditional marriage braids. 

Thorin seemed to like that. As much as the prince appears able to express any sort of positive emotion. 

Sighing, Bilbo tugs on one of the braids. Thorin only grumbles in reply. But a few movements later, they’re moved around enough that the hobbit can put in the two thinner braids that frame the prince’s face. 

He stares pointedly at Thorin’s mouth. The easiest place on his face to hold a staring contest with while he does this. Holding an actual staring contest with the dwarf does not seem likely (and Bilbo would only be admiring his the color of his eyes) and even looking at his nose is too close to his eyes. 

Once he’s done with that, beads and clasps back in Thorin’s hair as well, Bilbo prepares to sit back and be left alone. But his eyes catch on Thorin’s chest before him. 

The prince only lets Bilbo put in his braids after he has bathed. He does not dress but for a pair of pants, though the hobbit hasn’t really figured out why. Normally, he leaves to dress but Thorin continues on sitting there as though he has become stone.

Unlike his back, Thorin’s chest looks more of scars than skin. While Bilbo does not dare touch him, he knows that it must feel more like scars than anything else. 

But there is a large, deep and long scar from his right shoulder and it dips down across his chest, only stopping at the curve of the dwarf’s hip. All the other scars on his chest are smaller, could not compare but there they lay surrounding it. 

Bilbo finds it frightening. 

Some of those scars are already fading, like the older ones on Thorin’s back. Where the large one looks older, it still does not appear as though it would be fading any time soon. 

A moment too late, the hobbit finds his fingers on the scar. Feeling. He wants to ask about it, where it came from because this is no incident like the small starburst scar. 

Bilbo thinks of retreating his hand, but Thorin’s comes up to cradle his hand and he cannot move. 

“How did you…”

“In battle,” the prince draws Bilbo’s fingers away, up to his mouth and he kisses the tips gently. Bilbo swallows. “As many dwarves do, we all have scars from battle. Some more than others. The Battle of Azanulbizar took many of our kin. It left the rest of us scarred.”

Thorin squeezes his fingers gently, bringing their intertwined hands down to his lap. 

“Frerin was too young to be fighting, as was I, but we both could not be swayed from fighting. Against the Orcs… it was a terrible fight. It is where I earned the title Oakenshield, and this scar.” Thorin brings his hand back up, resting their joined fingers on the edge of the scar. “Where I protected my brother from dying. He would have, had I not taken protection of him. They were cruel, too strong for him and it would have been fatal.”

“Oh,” Bilbo manages, and that’s all he honestly can. After a while, he loosens his fingers from Thorin’s and traces the smaller scars. He can feel the heavy gaze on top of his head as he does so, but he pretends it does not embarrass him. 

In fact, Bilbo is engrossed enough in feeling out his husband’s scars that he doesn’t notice the slip of Thorin’s hand up underneath his shirt. It startles him, though and he jumps in surprise. 

Thorin stares at him, not retreated his hand. 

Bilbo has no idea to react, simply staring dumbly at Thorin as his hand rests lightly on the hobbit’s hip under his shirt. 

Then, he lets the dwarf take off his shirt. He doesn’t know why, because Bilbo has already had his braids done and there’s really no reason for his shirt to be off in the first place!

Thorin stares at him openly, taking in the soft skin of the hobbit and Bilbo should be more ashamed. But the dwarf is not looking at him in any carnal way. No, he looks at him with open curiosity and a look that says he doesn’t understand. 

“What?” Bilbo finds he wants to crawl in on himself, after another long minute of the prince staring at him. 

“Your skin… it’s clear,” he gestures at Bilbo, who wants desperately to cover up. “You have no scars.”

“Yes, well,” Bilbo frowns at Thorin. “Hobbits hardly go to war like you dwarves do and I have not had any accidents.”

Something in Thorin’s eyes seems to soften, but then another part of him appears to have hardened against that. 

“Then you will never be marred. I will not let anyone harm you,” Thorin presses his hand against Bilbo’s chest, over his heart. “I do not wish for you to suffer any pain.”

Bilbo flushes, preparing a retort involving the word ‘stubborn dwarf’ and 'idiot’ but neither of them make it out of his mouth. The dwarf pulls him tighter to his chest, Bilbo’s hands scrambling for a hold. 

After all, it’s only the third time they have kissed and he has no idea how to react. Certainly, he was not expecting it out of nowhere like that. Still, he melts into the kiss. 


	4. First Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 2014. Sort of pre-bagginshield and with a dash of a dwarf sister. Bilbo and Thorin meet at a different time.

Dis insists on it, as they lose themselves on the way back to Ered Luin. Thorin has no clue where they are, but the people are smaller than them and softer, with no hair on their faces but it seems as though it traveled south, grouped on their feet. He think they’re a bit odd, not nearly worth the time of a dwarf king and princess. But then, he is not his sister and she calls excitedly out to them. 

They all scurry inside their homes or hurry up their walking pace. 

“That’s rude,” Dis says.

“What did you expect?” Thorin casts her a frown. “We are taller and stronger than them, obviously.”

“We are too far from the mountains, I’m not tiring myself traveling all the way there. So, brother, you better look less grumpy and surely one of these halflings would be helpful.”

Thorin glares at the back of his sister’s head but sets his expression into neutral. Neither of them are attractive dwarves, hardly at all, to be perfectly honest, a family trait that has unfortunately been passed on to his sister’s sons as well. The dwarf prince has little issue with not finding his one. Bringing more Durins into the world, who would probably take after him and cement the Durin’s ugly streak… no, he didn’t want that. As if anyone could look at him and _want_.

He knows she’s probably smiling friendly, a twinkle in her eye as they pass by the smaller creatures who shrink away. 

Until Thorin nearly slams into one of the halflings when his sister takes an abrupt turn. His embarrassment mounts, as he only stumbles where the halfling lets out a startled noise, and the dwarf steadies him out of instinct. He briefly thinks of dwarven pride, snapping at the halfling for running into him. 

But then the halfling looks up. 

If he had had anything to say, it was swept away. Thorin stares openly. Dis comes stomping back, and if he were to look up, Thorin would have seen the embarrassment blooming on her face. 

Still, he does not. 

He thinks, he has never seen anyone so beautiful, so breathtaking. 

“Oh, gods, I am so sorry,” the halfling frets, pulling out of Thorin’s grasp. He’s red in the face, staring down at their feet. Thorin wishes he would look back up.

“Aule,” Dis grumbles, shaking her hands and the halfling looks over at her. “He is just an idiot,” she glances at him, and then snaps, “Thorin.”

“My apologies, Master Hobbit,” he manages to stutter out.

Over the hobbit’s head, the look his sister gives him is one that lets him know how pathetic he sounds. He will yell at her later, for now his eyes are back on the hobbit.

“Oh, no, goodness,” he hurries out. “I should have been looking where I was going.” He straightens out his waistcoat, as though it’d been roughed up during the run in but Thorin hadn’t seen it even a wrinkle in it. “What, hm, what are two dwarves doing in Hobbiton?”

“You have seen dwarves before?” Dis manages more tact than her brother, carrying the conversation on as he stares dumbly. 

“I hardly think one hasn’t, what with those mountains not too far from here!”

“Our home,” Thorin says suddenly, and both Dis and the hobbit look over at him. “Ered Luin.”

“Well, we call them the Blue Mountains,” the halfling says, smiling. “And there are always dwarves in Bree. I have seen my fair share of dwarves.”

Thorin stares at him, studying each of his features intently. Had there ever been a more gorgeous being to grace the ground they walked on? The hobbit looks away a moment later, his cheeks reddening again.

“Begging your pardon,” his sister says. “But we are a tiny bit lost and traveling all the way home would become tiresome… I don’t suppose you might know somewhere we might lodge for a few nights?”

“Ah, well, there is the Green Dragon Inn. It’s not too expensive-”

“I’m afraid we have little gold with us,” Dis says over him, her eyes moving towards her brother briefly.

It is a blatant lie. They have plenty of gold. Thorin had made sure of it when they left Ered Luin, knowing that they would have to stop several times. Thorin frowns at his sister, but the hobbit is now wringing his hands and frowning with a concentrated look in his eyes. 

“Unfortunately, it is true,” Thorin says, deciding on his sister’s side. He isn’t sure what she is planning but the chance at seeing the hobbit even a few minutes longer does not spurn him. 

Such an admittance would be embarrassing, for a dwarf of his status and hers as well, but Thorin hardly cares. 

“Oh,” the halfling chews on his bottom lip. “I could offer my home to you both, I suppose. I live alone and there is surely enough room for the both of you.”

Dis lights up, clapping her hand on his shoulder. The hobbit stumbles and Thorin reaches out to steady him again. His hands linger but the other creature hardly notices. Thorin’s earlier statement about dwarves being stronger was hardly a lie or a guess, but watching him stumble from Dis’s thanking gesture proves it well enough. 

“Wonderful! You have our thanks, Mister…?”

“Dear me,” he gasps, looking highly embarrassed. “Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

“Mister Baggins,” Dis smiles with her teeth, bowing slightly. Hardly respectable of a dwarf princess but Thorin has learned well enough not to expect those types of things from his sister. “Dis, at your service.”

She glances back at Thorin, and he catches himself having been studying Mister Baggins’ gorgeous features again.

“Thorin, at your service,” he announces, going along with his sister’s approach and bowing slightly. He leaves off his title, but he isn’t quite sure why. 

“Come along then, I have just been to the market and, why, it is nearly time for afternoon tea,” Bilbo turns on his heel, a motion that should not in any way cause Thorin to fluster and yet he does. 

He wonders about afternoon tea. Dis says nothing, merely grins over her shoulder at him and then follows Mister Baggins up the hill.

As it turns out, the esteemed halfling lives on top of… or rather, _in_ the hill, as it appears to be. A great tree grows out of the top of the hill, marking the hill as perhaps the tallest point in Hobbiton. Thorin stops, partly to observe the great tree and the hill-home beneath it. The other part of him startles as another hobbit appears up out of a bush, in what must be a garden to the side of Mister Baggins’ round, green door. 

And this hobbit must be around their now host’s age. 

“Mister Bilbo!” He calls out, standing up and faltering then at the sight of the two dwarves following behind Bilbo. 

Thorin’s skin prickles uneasily at the ease with which this hobbit refers to Mister Baggins. Perhaps… perhaps, someone else has already seen his beauty long before Thorin even had a chance.

“Ah, Holman,” Bilbo smiles, nodding in the other hobbit’s direction. “I have some guests, why don’t you go on home?”

Holman glances over at the both of them before looking back at Bilbo with slight unease. 

“Of.. course,” he says, just as uneasy as he looks. “The tomatoes are looking good again this year.”

But with that, he is off down the road. 

Thorin relaxes slightly. 

“Apologies,” Mister Baggins says as he opens the door into his home, letting them by first. Thorin brushes up against him, simply for the touch and plays it off as an accident. He can’t tell how Mister Baggins feels about it. “My gardener, Holman. I’m sure he won’t be around much, not many folk are keen on dwarves.”

There is a pause as they both stare awkwardly at Mister Baggins. He glances down at their boots with a frown but doesn’t say anything. At least not right away.

“Um, I mean, they’re just not very… used to it, not here anyway,” Mister Baggins smiles nervously, his eyes back on their boots. Dis glances at his bared feet, then seems to realize it. 

“Do you wish for us to take off our boots, Mister Baggins?”

“Well,” he says, quietly and looking a tad embarrassed. 

“You are our host,” Thorin hurries to say. “If it is your custom, we will follow it.”

Mister Baggins looks unsure of what to say to that, but by the time he has thought up a response (evident by the way he opens his mouth) they both have taken their boots off, left them by the door.

“You seem fine with our presence,” Dis says.

“Yes,” he says after a moment of confusion in his face. She’d traced back to his comment on the reaction to them. “I am half Took, and I think my mother would be appalled if I acted more like a hobbit of Hobbiton than of Tuckborough.”

Bilbo thinks, as the dwarves make thoughtful faces at the statement, that his father would be more appalled by his letting of two dwarves into Bag End. 

Instead, he straightens out his waistcoat a second time. It has become a terrible habit, something he does whenever he wishes for a distraction and a gathering of his thoughts. Cousin Lobelia had pointed it out, but to spite her he hadn’t tried to stop doing it. 

Both the dwarves are attractive, perhaps more so because they are exotic to Bilbo, although he finds himself glancing between them every so often. The two somehow know each other, a familiarity of years spent together obvious in the way Dis snorts at Thorin and Thorin huffs at her when she is not looking. Bilbo cannot put his finger on it and he tries not to worry about it.

But every so often, he finds his gaze slipping back to Thorin. His inclinations have always bent towards males, although he had mostly kept it to himself. 

Thorin has the loveliest blue eyes, certainly, well matched with his dark hair, even with the few streaks of silver. And the both of them seem to have a.. well, to put it plainly, a regal bearing. 

He shakes himself out of it, though. If he has learned anything from Bungo, it is at least that good manners matter a great deal and that having his unexpected guests standing around was rather rude. 

“I will make tea,” he announces. The both of them startle and look at him but then Dis nods, flashing him a toothy smile. “First, though, shall I show you to your room?”

Where Thorin nods, there is a sliver of confusion in his face. They walk behind him, and Bilbo can clearly hear them murmuring to each other. It’s rather rude, he thinks, but hardly business. 

“I hate to be insinuating anything, Mister Baggins,” Dis says, finally as Bilbo stops in front of the best guest room. It is the one next to his own bedroom. There is no reason, he feels, to put them in anyone other room. “But if you do not have enough room for us, then we will certainly not burden you.”

When he turns back around, she has a friendly smile on her mouth. Next to her, Thorin looks conflicted about the statement but he does not make a protest against her. 

“I have plenty of room,” Bilbo says, crossing his arms. “I just thought that you would…”

It dawns on him. 

Despite the difference in the color of their hair, where Dis has a shade of darkening blond Thorin has much darker locks, there are far too many similarities in their faces. From their noses, to their eyes, which Bilbo had not noticed before but yes, Dis does share the same shade of blue as Thorin.

Their closeness is not that of a wife and husband, but sister and brother. Bilbo flushes, wishing to hide his face in his hands for his blatant mistake. 

“Oh dear,” he manages. “I am sorry, I should have asked you…”

Dis raises an eyebrow but simply smiles as though she has realized his mistake with him. 

“This is the best guest room,” Bilbo says, gesturing at the closed door. “I will show you the second best guest room as well." 

Thorin opens his mouth to say something, but Dis steps forward and smiles softly. 

"My brother will take this one,” she says, and when Bilbo tries to protest that well, she should have it, she holds up a hand. “Please. I do not mind. Show me the other room.”

As he walks away with Dis following, the hobbit pauses and looks back. Thorin’s face, which must have been just in a glare at his sister’s back for it is still a bit crunched up about his brow, softens considerably at his gaze. 

“Oh, and my room is just next door,” Bilbo clarifies. The other room, the one he will lend to Dis, is across from his but he will tell her that later. “In case you have need of anything in the middle of the night.”


	5. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 2014. Another bit of the arranged marriage AU. Thorin does something he probably shouldn't. Super short!

Bilbo grins, leaning down to softly touch the plants. He glances back at Thorin, beaming, and Thorin is slightly relieved that he likes it. Trying to impress a hobbit is increasingly difficult. They hardly like similar things, dwarves and hobbits.

“I didn’t think there would be any gardens in the mountain!" 

Thorin almost blurts that it’s his mother’s but bites down the words, keeping from ruining everything. "It is the Queen’s.”

Bilbo blinks, glances around and then steps back closer to Thorin. “I don’t think that just anyone would be allowed into her garden?” He frowns in confusion. 

“No,” Thorin agrees. “I am.. closely related to the royal family.”

“Oh.” He stares down at their feet. 

“And you are engaged to Prince Thorin, are you not?” Thorin keeps his voice steady, eyes watching Bilbo nervously. “I doubt the Queen will protest your presence here.”

“Right, yes,” the hobbit laughs oddly, curling his fingers together. “I wish I was marrying you.”

There’s an awkward pause, where Thorin gapes at him and tries desperately to find words. Bilbo turns bright red, turning his head in the opposite direction of Thorin. 

“C-can we pretend I didn’t just say that?” He fidgets uncomfortably, until Thorin clears his throat and Bilbo does look back over at him. 

“I’m sure you’ll like Prince Thorin,” he says and watches Bilbo visibly relax. “I don’t think all the things you may have heard about him are entirely true.”

“Yes, well,” Bilbo smiles sadly, looking back down at the flowers. “Maybe he won’t be so bad?”


	6. Flower Crowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August 2014. request by tokito-sempai: idk maybe something like flower crown making and Thorin’s struggling with his big meaty hands and bilbo takes them in his own to help him???

“What are you doing?”

Bilbo grins a little, hands on his hips as he looks down at his husband. He’d only been in the kitchen for a few minutes. There is a smudge of flour on his cheek, Thorin takes note, which meant that he had come immediately from the kitchen without checking his face. In fact, he has his apron on still. 

Even from outside in the garden, he can hear the sound of Frodo playing in the kitchen. 

“You shouldn’t leave him alone in the kitchen,” remarks Thorin, pretending he wasn’t in fact hiding something behind his back. “Once, my sister left Fili and Kili in the kitchens to their own devices and-”

“He’ll be fine,” Bilbo says. “Frodo is well-behaved. I’ll ask again, what are you doing out here?”

Thorin does not budge, merely stares up innocently at the hobbit.

“Right,” he huffs, and before Thorin can think about it, his hands are quickly but gently pulled from behind his back. The flowers that he’d been desperately trying to weave together before Bilbo had ventured back into the garden sit in his hands. It was certainly a poor imitation of the ones Bilbo made for the small faunts in the Shire. Thorin’s fingers were larger than Bilbo’s, not made to weave flowers tightly together. “Oh.”

“It’s not..” starts Thorin but then glances away. 

Bilbo crouches down and then fully sits, crossing his legs over themselves. He takes the flowers in his hands, before mumbling to himself. 

“That’s far too many,” Bilbo pulls a few aside and then begins carefully weaving the flowers together. “If you wanted a flower crown like the fauntlings you could have told me.”

The hobbit glances up, smiling a little and Thorin frowns back at him until he goes back to working on the flowers. 

“It wasn’t for me.”

“Well then, definitely too many for Frodo,” Bilbo’s hands pause.

“I didn’t.. I wasn’t trying to make it for Frodo,” he tries then, because Bilbo’s hands do not start up right away. 

“Ah,” Bilbo says and then a moment later, a small fond smile curls over Bilbo’s lips before he presses the half-done flowers into Thorin’s hands. “Then you should finish it yourself.”

Thorin sends him a despairing look. It didn’t change how big his fingers were compared to hobbits. 

After what feels likes an hour of struggling, Bilbo chuckles. His fingers curl around Thorin’s and helping him. It’s not all that easy, still, but Thorin finds that it at least looks decent. 

“There you go,” Bilbo smiles softly, but his fingers don’t leave Thorin’s. They sit like that for a while, where eventually Bilbo intertwines their fingers after Thorin places the flower crown on the hobbit’s head.

Bilbo smiles wider, squeezing Thorin’s hand. It takes Thorin a moment but he moves his free hand and rubs the flour away. Under his thumb, Bilbo’s face flushes.  

“Oh,” he grumbles and Thorin grins. 


	7. Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October 2014. Zombie Apocalypse AU, inspired by a post about OTP being separated during the Zombie Apocalypse and then reunited.

Bilbo sometimes worried that he’d forget too soon what Thorin looked like. It had already been nearly two years. He clenched his jaw, covering his eyes as he hid under a car. Now was not the time for tears. He had to be silent, despite the fear and sudden onset of sorrow.

If he’d made it, then Thorin probably had too.

He hoped.

The horde finally passed, though he stayed under the car for a while until Bofur’s grimy but still optimistic face popped under.  

“Bilbo! C'mon, let’s keep moving,” his friend stuck out a hand as he talked and helped Bilbo out from under the car.

Dori and Ori were coming toward them.

“If we keep covering ground, we’ll be to the safe camp before nightfall!”

Bilbo looked up, staring at the mid-morning sun.

“What if it’s like the rest?” Dori snapped, shaking his head. “We can’t handle another empty, zombie overriden camp!”

“What choice have we got?” Bofur scowled. “I want to find my brother as much as you do yours.”

Bilbo looked down to find Ori staring at him, away from his brother arguing.

“It’s the last chance we have,” Bilbo said, startling the two arguing. “Let’s go. Whatever we find.. we find.”

Bofur was right. As the sun was setting, they came up to the edge of the camp. Something in Bilbo nearly sobbed in relief when he saw it wasn’t false, the safe camp up and working.

And they were let in, given showers and food. Bilbo probably sobbed in relief more when he collapsed on a bed.

“We get people through here a lot,” the woman said, her ginger hair pulled back tightly. “But you can stay.”

“Do.. people not stay?” Dori frowned.

“Some people don’t.”

“Whatever for?” Bofur looked completely lost. Bilbo had to agree.

“Not everyone wants to stay here, and we don’t force them,” she shrugged. “If they stay, they stay. If they don’t, well, it’s their choice. Everyone has someone they’re looking for.”

Bilbo went to bed wondering if he would ever see Thorin again. If he waited here… Thorin might show up but they’d been separated early on and he could going the opposite direction of the man he loved.

He tucked his hand under the pillow and startled at the touch of something else.

It felt.. like a photo?

He pulled it out and sat up, squinting at the photo but in the dark he couldn’t see it. Running his fingers around the edges, he found that it felt as though it had been torn. So it had been part of a bigger picture. Bilbo sighed. It wasn’t his but whoever had been here had left it and he wanted to see what the picture was of.

The morning came quickly, safely tucked into a bed and well fed for once, Bilbo and his friends slept easily through the night. Bofur was gone when Bilbo woke up, and as he slowly oriented himself again he remembered the picture.

It was light enough to be able to see it.

He slipped it from underneath the pillow again and looked at it. His stomach dropped.

Bilbo had to bite his tongue and look away for a moment before he could manage a second look.

Staring back at him was his boyfriend, the picture taken a few months before the world had gone to hell. Bilbo knew because he had had to get Thorin to agree to even put on the sweater he was wearing in the picture.

But it was just Thorin. The half that Bilbo had been in had been ripped away, and he traced the edge with a trembling finger. No one had had the picture but he and Thorin. Thorin always kept the photo on him, Bilbo’s copy… he’d lost it, earlier in the year but it had been ripped to shreds.

He was up in an instant, racing down the hall and slamming open the door where the the woman sat. She startled, looking up in confusion.

“Can I help you?”

He slapped the photo down on her desk.

“This man,” Bilbo breathed, trying to calm down. “This man, he had to be here, where is he?”

She stared at it for a good time before looking up at Bilbo with a frown.

“I remember him, Thorin, I think?” Bilbo felt a cold wash over him and he nodded. “He was here a few months ago but he left. Said he was looking for someone.”

“Do you know where he went?”

 

In the end it took Bilbo more than two months to track Thorin down, nearly on his own for some of it. That had been the terrifying part, being alone some nights and thinking to himself that he was so close to finding Thorin again and that he might die before that.

Still, in the end, he dropped his bag to his feet as the safety of a camp called Rivendell enveloped him. This… this was the last known place Thorin had reportedly been headed to and god, Bilbo hoped that he was still here.

Elrond, the man that was in charge of the camp, was friendly and looked willing to help Bilbo but he had to do this on his own. He couldn’t know right away if Thorin was there.

It was at breakfast the morning after he’d arrived, as he sat down by himself and away from the others to eat.

“Bilbo?”

He looked up, mouth falling open as he looked up at Thorin. The man looked much different than when Bilbo had seen him last. His hair was much longer, pulled back in a loose ponytail and his beard fuller. He had a scar over one of his eyes but all Bilbo could think was that there he was. Thorin.

“Thorin..” he breathed.

He was up in an instant, flinging himself at Thorin with a sob. Thorin stumbled back first but wrapped his arms tightly around Bilbo and pulled him up off his feet. Bilbo wasn’t sure how they managed a kiss but they did and he sobbed into the man’s mouth.

He’d never felt safer.


	8. Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November 2014. Yet another part of the arranged marriage au. Focused mainly on Bilbo and Thorin's eldest daughter.

“Have you see Delisi?”

It was the third time he’d asked. Bilbo could feel himself growing more irritated as he stared down his husband. Although, staring him down would involve the dwarf actually looking up at him and he was not doing that. Whatever papers he had, he was far too engrossed in them.

“Thorin.”

“What?”

“Our daughter?” Thorin peered up from his papers finally, a frown on his face. “Have you seen her?”

“Isn’t.. she with you?”

“Do you think I would be asking you where she is, if she was with me?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow, hands on his hips as he tapped his foot impatiently. As if Thorin did not believe him, the king looked around the room. Apparently after confirming his husband wasn’t lying, Thorin looked back at him.

“I thought she was with you, I haven’t seen her since breakfast,” Thorin did set his papers down though. At least the apparent missing status of their daughter made him quit burying himself in work.

However…

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Have you asked Farin or Linnea?” Thorin slid his crown on, shrugging on his surcoat before walking toward the large doors out of their rooms. “I can send a party to-”

“Oh, no,” the hobbit shook his head, stomping over to Thorin with a scowl. “You are not doing that to her!”

Thorin stared down at him in confusion.

“Our daughter has not gone missing, Thorin, she has obviously run off and doesn’t want to be bothered,” Bilbo sighed and pinched his nose. “Not by a dozen of guards.”

“So what do you want me to do? She could be anywhere!”

“I highly doubt she’s left the mountain, Thorin,” he patted his husband’s arm. “And if she has, it will not have been far. I will find her. I think I know what’s going on.”

He looked conflicted, he really did but Bilbo wasn’t sure he could comfort both his husband and his eldest daughter in the same day. They held a similar temperament, despite not being related by blood. Neither were easy to console nor calm down.

“I should go with you,” he started but Bilbo shook his head.

“No,” Bilbo squeezed his arm. “I don’t think this is something you will understand. That’s okay, just let me take care of it. I will tell you later.”

That’s how Bilbo found himself wandering about Erebor. It was difficult to avoid the guards, especially since they wanted to make sure the Prince Consort was walking about the mountain safely. Honestly, after nearly a decade!

The kitchens were not exactly where he was expecting to find his daughter, but yet, he found her sitting on the counter while Bombur and several cooks went about their preparations for dinner. It was closing in on dinner, his stomach decided to remind him.

His entrance into the kitchens seemed to clear nearly all the dwarves out. He supposed that it might just be time to serve the kingdom their dinner. Bilbo had declared a while ago that he’d rather dine with his family on a daily basis, excluding holidays when they dined with all the kingdom. It was far better for his hobbit sensibilities. And his children.

Bombur lingered for only a moment, giving Delisi a meaningful look before he left following the other cooks. Bilbo raised his eyebrow.

“What are you doing down here? Have you been here all day?”

“No,” she said, looking down at her feet and then everywhere else but her father. “I spent the day with Mister Ori in the library.”

“Oh? You couldn’t come back for lunch?”

“I.. was busy.”

“Hm,” Bilbo nodded and then walked over, looking at his daughter before hopping up onto the counter next to her. For his luck, she was still smaller than her but he knew it would not last. Farin and Delisi would soon shoot up past him. Linnea had a few more years before she did that. “Your father and I made it clear family meals are important.”

Delisi didn’t say anything.

“We were both very worried, you know,” he sighed. “Your father almost just sent a troop of guards looking for you.”

“That’s always his solution,” she grumbled, crossing her arms.

“You have no idea,” Bilbo hummed, smiling when Delisi finally looked at him. “I spent much time in the library when we were first married. Sometimes too much, and Thorin would get worried. I didn’t like finding guards looking for me and acting like I’d run off.”

“Why can’t he just come find me himself?”

Bilbo patted her hand.

“Your father is not the best at these kinds of things, which is why I told him not to do what he always does, and that is also why I am here right now,” he nodded, sighing. “I think I know why you have been avoiding us today.”

“I haven’t been…” Delisi started and then looked down, hiding her face in her red locks.

“You know, when I first came here I was out of place so badly that I nearly hated it,” Bilbo smiles and then chuckles. “But your father was kind to me and in the end, I didn’t think it was so bad here. Though, I admit, there are days when I wish I was not the only hobbit in Erebor.”

“Papa,” she frowned, tugging on one of her small braids. “I don’t look like you or father, but Farin looks like father so much. And Linnea, she… she has Fili’s golden curls, how am I supposed to fit in when I look nothing like any of our family?”

Bilbo raised both his eyebrows.

“Oh, and how am I supposed to fit in when my entire family is dwarves?” He took his daughter’s hand again. “There is nothing wrong about being different from your family, my dear. It is true that Farin looks like he could be Thorin’s son, but Linnea only shares similarities with your cousin, and right now, it is at best her hair.”

Delisi lowers her head again, sighing.

“I have also come to understand that dwarves think red hair is quite beautiful,” he smiles at her. “Your father worries that he will have to be fighting off suitors for your hand far too soon!”

She stayed quiet but a smile had crept onto her face.

“And if neither of those things make you feel better, you know that Thorin and I love you unconditionally, Delisi. It doesn’t matter that you don’t look like us and your siblings do. You are our daughter and we will love you no matter what,” at that, she turned and looked at her father, as if searching his face before she flung herself into him. Bilbo held her tightly, smiling. “Now, it is dinner time, and I will have you talk to your father after dinner.”

Delisi grinned as she followed him out the kitchens and up to the royal wing. “As I believe father says, you hobbits and your mealtimes.” Which is followed by Bilbo shaking his head and chuckling. 


	9. Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 2014. Snowball fights in the Shire! I said I was going to post this to AO3 on tumblr, but I never did? Silly me.

The first snowfall in the Shire always determines the changing of the seasons. None of the hobbits pay attention to dates for such things, they harvest until the snow falls for the first time. Naturally, many hobbits dread the first falling of snow. It means that the harvest season is over and they’ll have to hope that whatever they have harvested that year will last them until spring thaws the grounds again.

Any hobbit old enough dreads the first few days of winter. It is always these days that determine the length and severity of the oncoming winter.

Fauntlings love the snow, however. Bilbo had remembered (until the year of the Fell Winter, of course) running out will all the other children to play in the first snow. No matter if it were thin or not. His mother would be standing in Bag End’s door with a laugh while his father grumbled for the door to be closed.

He did not particularly like the snow anymore. It was not a bad thing but it meant his tomatoes were done for the year and any other flower or plant would no longer bloom.

Still, hearing Thorin Oakenshield, once King under the Mountain, exclaiming that _there is snow outside, Bilbo!,_ is not really what he desires waking up to.

Bilbo peeks from under the covers, letting his eyes adjust to the dimly lit room and locate Thorin.

The dwarf is crowded up against the window. Bilbo imagines he has his nose pressed against the glass in order to look closer outside. Like any respectable Hobbit past his majority, Bilbo does not want to be awake right now. Why Thorin seems to think this is the best time to stare out the window at the first snow is beyond him. He tucks himself comfortably back into the blankets, pulling them tighter without his dwarf there to warm him.

“Bilbo?”

“’’S too early, Thorin,” he grumbles to the pillow.

He doesn’t fall asleep right away, it’s difficult trying to find the right comfortable position within the blankets and without Thorin there. It is at the back of his mind but he can hear Thorin moving around Bag End.

The bedroom door opens again and Bilbo turns his head enough to feel the rush of colder air than within his blankets.

“Boot,” he mumbles and hears Thorin’s chuckle. “Don’t forget your boots and coat…”

Honestly, sometimes it is like he is taking care of a child, not a grown dwarf far, far older than him.

It’s not as if Thorin has never seen snow before. He has. Plenty of snow falls every year about the mountains. But as a prince and the leader of his people during exile, he had never paid much attention to snow. While he was following his father and grandfather about Erebor as a boy, Dis and Frerin had been playing in the snow surrounding the mountain during winter. (Except once, when his younger brother had managed to spirit him away and he’d had snow fights with them and other dwarflings until Balin had tugged him back into the mountain by his ear.)

And winters during exile were harsh, hardly looked at as joyful or a time to play.

So Thorin steps out into freshly fallen snow for the first time with the intent of enjoying it. He wouldn’t be _playing_ in it, after all he was an old dwarf. Too old to play. He would just be enjoying snow for the first time in his life.

It is not that early, despite Bilbo’s grumblings. The sun has already risen and he can see several hobbits peeking at the snow from their windows. Bilbo had said something about snow and the end of the harvest.

From what Thorin had gathered, hobbits liked growing things and they disliked the winters when they came.

He didn’t have a particular idea in mind when he’d stepped out of Bag End and he still does not as he wanders down the paths of Hobbiton. Bilbo didn’t like when he did that, always worried Thorin was going to get lost again.

At the sound of snow crunching behind him, Thorin turns his head and stares back at the small hobbit child stepping into his footprints as she follows him. She doesn’t freeze but does stop, blinking up at him.

Thorin isn’t honestly sure how it happens but an hour after he’s left Bag End he has a small army of hobbit children following him. They won’t leave him alone so he gives up and stands in the empty area under the Party Tree with the hobbits scrambling around after each other in the snow.

He does not know why he is watching this many children or how he’s going to do that, considering his experience is limited to two dwarf children who were long grown up.

In any case, Thorin sees one of the boys pack snow into his mittened hands and throw it at one of the girls. It’s pathetic. The snowball is absolutely pathetic.

That is how Thorin ends up crouching down and teaching the faunts to make perfect snowballs. By the time most of them have perfected it, it’s likely luncheon time but none of them bat an eyelash. And Thorin hasn’t accustomed himself to the meals and times of meals, so he’s already onto the next lesson of building small snow mountains to hide behind in defense.

He’s whispering quickly to one of the little hobbit girls about a strategy when he sees Bilbo standing on the edge of what has been deemed their battlefield. The hobbit taps his foot, raising an eyebrow but he is also bundled up. Unfortunately, Bilbo has several hobbit parents behind him and Thorin winces as he stands up.

“What are you doing?” Bilbo asks, a grin forming on his face as Thorin approaches him.

“I was just…”

“Were you playing in the snow? With hobbit children?” When Thorin flushes a little, Bilbo reaches out and takes his hands. “Well, someone has to run their energy down now that the harvest season is over. Don’t worry, I’m sure their parents will be thanking you in a few days.”

Said parents are watching their children warily as they continue the snow fight even without Thorin there to send them in the right direction. He thinks if he doesn’t get back there they’ll fall apart fairly quickly and start throwing snow at everyone and not just the opposite sides.

Bilbo notices this, or he must as he chuckles and lets go of Thorin’s hands.

“I won’t hold you up,” he says. “I’ll go make you all hot chocolate. Come back to Bag End when you’re done.”

The sun starts to dip just as Thorin decides the snow fight is probably over. Most of the children are no longer paying attention to rules. Mostly, they’re throwing snow at any unsuspecting fellow faunt. When Thorin declares it over though, they seem a little disappointed. He directs them toward Bag End, which isn’t too far and they all seem perfectly fine climbing over the small hills instead of following the path.

“Can’t we continue?” One faunt asks, trying to keep stride with Thorin.

“Not tonight,” Thorin says, frowning. “Perhaps tomorrow, if more snow falls…”

“My ma said it would,” the boys says, nodding as they round toward Bag End. Bilbo opens the door and stands there, smiling at them and Thorin smiles fondly at him. “She says this winter is going to have lots of snow!”

Somehow, they manage all of the children inside and Bilbo passes out hot chocolate before going back into the kitchen. Thorin follows him, sitting down and finding that he’s far too tired at this time of the day.

“You did play outside all day,” Bilbo reminds him. “Hopefully I will get my husband in my bed tomorrow morning?”

“Maybe,” Thorin says and gets a pinch on his cheek from Bilbo. 


	10. Yule Cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 2014. Another winter focused oneshot. Cookie baking!

When winter has finally settled in, after a few days of on and off snowing, Thorin notices very quickly that the hobbits do not make for a great effort to do _anything_.

For instance, Bilbo will not get out of bed in the morning. He’s been more motivated to once Thorin steps foot in the kitchen. How Bilbo even knows that he’s gone into the kitchen when the kitchen is nowhere near the bedroom is beyond Thorin. But he does.

And Thorin has admittedly been using it to his advantage. It’s the simplest and most effective way of Bilbo actually leaving the bed.

This morning, Thorin stands in the kitchen for ten minutes and when Bilbo doesn’t appear in the doorway with a worried look on his face, he ventures back into the bedroom. His hobbit husband is splayed out on the bed, limbs everywhere and the blankets kicked down to cover just his legs. In fact, his feet are not under the blankets either. Besides that, Bilbo looks so deeply in the fact that Thorin almost doesn’t want to wake him up.

Almost.

“Bilbo,” says Thorin as he crouches down to bring himself level to said hobbit’s face.

“Mh,” grumbles Bilbo sleepily and turns away.

“Wake up.”

That earns Thorin a pillow to his face, which is rather a surprise and he stumbles back before scowling a little at the hobbit.

“Bilbo-”

“I don’t want to get out of bed,” grumbles Bilbo again, but he opens his eyes and stares at Thorin. “You should stay in bed with me today.”

“I have to go to the forge,” says Thorin, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’ll not get any customers today, come back to bed,” insists Bilbo, reaching out and intertwining their fingers loosely. “No hobbit is going to come out into the snow, not today.”

Somehow, _somehow_ that convinces him as he ends up snuggling with Bilbo in the blankets while the hobbit snores softly. Bilbo has wrapped himself around Thorin, using his chest as a pillow while he sleeps. Thorin hopes he wakes up for a meal at some point.

Not that Thorin couldn’t lay like this for a while, he could, but hobbits were so regular about their meals. In any case, Thorin enjoys the weight of his husband as he sleeps and for once, doesn’t really mind staying all morning in bed.

Bilbo was likely right. Most hobbits would be unlikely to venture out with winter settled in around Hobbiton, especially not to the forge.

By the time tea time rolls around, Bilbo seems content enough to actually get out of bed. Thorin follows him slowly and wonders if they will have tea for tea time or more since Bilbo hadn’t eaten anything through the morning _and_ luncheon.

“Can you get that for me?” Bilbo points up toward a large bowl too high for any hobbit to reach. After Thorin had made an official move to the Shire, Bilbo had started doing things like that. Thorin wasn’t really sure why…

Still, he fetches the bowl for his husband and watches him curiously.

“What are you doing?”

On the counter, there is flour, along with sugar, eggs, butter, what looks to be small chips of chocolate and some other things that Thorin can’t easily identify. He doesn’t normally stick around in the kitchen too long because Bilbo won’t let him.

“I’m baking cookies,” he says matter-of-factly. “It is Yule now.”

Thorin doesn’t quite understand what that has to do with cookies but after a moment he decides not to question it further and goes to start a fire in the main room. It’s likely an hour before Bilbo leaves the kitchen with a plate of cookies.

“They’re hot,” he says as he sets them down on an end table. Thorin is seated on the small couch they’d long ago moved in there and Bilbo sits down next to him with a smile. When Thorin wraps an arm around him, he cuddles closer to Thorin with a happy sigh.

A few minutes later though, he leaves Thorin’s side to come back with the cookies and beams when he offers Thorin one.

“Not that you know, but I’m trying a new recipe,” Bilbo takes one for himself before placing the plate aside. “I’m trying to make them softer.”

“Softer?” But then Thorin bites into the cookie. It _is_ softer than any cookies he’s had. Apparently, he’s distracted with eating it because he doesn’t notice Bilbo leaning closer to him until he turns his head.

“What-”, he starts but doesn’t finish his thought as Bilbo covers his mouth with his. Thorin is slightly startled and they end up falling over.

Bilbo laughs into his mouth, pulling away to grin at him. “You had chocolate…”, Bilbo manages before Thorin pulls him in for an actual kiss. 


	11. Flowers and Tattoos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 2015. A very short oneshot of the ever popular Flower&Tattoo AU.

She didn’t expect to walk into the shop that morning and find her brother hunched awkwardly while watering the flowers. It looked ridiculous and at first, Dis couldn’t figure out why he was hunching like that. 

Then she looked out and to the left, it almost looked like he was staring out at something… 

Ah, that was right, the shop next door had been empty up until last night. Balin had mentioned someone buying it earlier in the month, though none of them had known what was to become of it then. 

And Thorin was definitely watching the shop’s new owner from his awkward hunching. 

“Have you no shame?" 

Thorin flew up and smacked his head against a low-hanging pot in the process, cursing and glaring at her. 

"Are you ogling the man next door, brother?”

“What, _no_!” Thorin set the watering can down and rubbed the back of his head while glaring at her. 

“You were,” smiled Dis. “Have you gone over and said hello? It looks like he’s just moved the shop in, and I bet you haven’t even offered a friendly hello to him.”

“It was this morning,” he grumbled. “Besides, I can’t just leave the shop.”

“Because you’re so busy,” she rolled her eyes and grabbed hold of Thorin’s arm. “I know you’re about to close down, come on. It’s not going to hurt you to be friendly.”

Obviously, Thorin wasn’t that reluctant. He let her drag him out of the flower shop and over to the shop next door. Just by a glance, it appeared the new place was to be a tattoo shop. 

When Dis pushed open the door, a bell tinkled delightfully. The man was bent over but he sprung up at the sound and turned around.

“Oh, no, we’re not open yet!” He smiled apologetically, looking at the both of them. He was finely dressed and Dis caught her eyes on the tattoos on his arms. 

As was Thorin, when she looked out of the corner of her eyes to see his reaction. For God’s sake, the man had roses tattooed on his arms. Was her brother turning red?

“Actually,” Dis prompted, but Thorin looked like he was stuck in a daze. “We’re from the flower shop next door.”

“Oh,” the man smiled wider. “It’s nice to meet you then! Ah, I’m Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins.”

“Dis Durin, and this is–”

“Thorin Durin,” Thorin said quickly, holding out his hand to Bilbo. His face was still red but he had shaken himself out of the daze. “I own the flower shop, Dis doesn’t even work there.”

When Bilbo shook his hand, Thorin looked like he might faint. Dis stifled a laugh into her hand. 


	12. Things You Said After You Kissed Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 2015. A minific prompted by Jonna. Bagginshield kisses!

It hadn’t necessarily been a shock to him. No, they’d been sitting in the wide, seemingly endless gardens of Beorn’s with the last rays of the sun warming their backs. They had simply been talking, of everything and anything in between. Thorin skimmed around the conversation of the quest. He did not seem to want to talk of it at the moment. For Bilbo, that did not bother him. 

This was the first time they’d been alone, talked alone, after Thorin’s apology and embrace on the carrock. 

Their hands were next to each other, fingers just barely touching and Bilbo had thought they’d simply landed that way. But perhaps it had been intentional, he thought so more now. 

And no, it hadn’t shocked him too much but the press of lips to his and a hand cupping his cheek had startled him. 

When Thorin pulled away, a flicker of doubt passed upon the dwarf’s face and then settled there when Bilbo didn’t react besides blinking in surprise. He couldn’t remember what they’d been talking about. 

Thorin opened his mouth, the doubt on his face transforming slowly into shame. 

“I.. I apologize. I should not have done that, of course, I..” Panic rose in his voice. “I was not thinking, Master Baggins, Bilbo, I..” he swallowed. “I hope you will forgive me.”

Thorin looked like he expected Bilbo might hit him. Bilbo shook his head a little to clear away the confusion and surprise before slowly covering the dwarf’s hand with his. He watched Thorin look down at their hands. 

“It really was.. I shouldn’t have..”

Bilbo sighed in slight exasperation before he leaned close and pecked Thorin softly. His blue eyes were wide when Bilbo sat back. 

“I..”

“I see no reason you should be apologizing.”

His eyes darted to catch Bilbo’s, back down quickly and catching the smile tugging on his lips before Thorin exhaled softly. “ _Oh_ …”


	13. Things You Said I Wasn't Meant To Hear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 2015. Minific on tumblr prompted by an anon. Love confessions.

There were fingers in his hair, tugging gently. It _felt_ like tugging at first, but as he came more to himself and the world surrounding, the fingers were more brushing through his hair than tugging. It was not a strange sensation. He brushed his own fingers through his hair daily when redoing his braids, his sister had done the same in Ered Luin, when he asked her to do his braids. But these fingers he did not have familiarity with. They did not feel like dwarf fingers either. 

He came to the waking world slowly, sensations returning one by one. Or it felt that way. 

A pain in his chest, one that bloomed slowly outward and then relocated itself in one of his feet. The pain pulsed in those two spots the strongest though he felt duller pains over his body and an overwhelming soreness. He felt tired but he had just woken up. He could feel a blanket, maybe, he thought it might be a blanket. 

Then sound returned as well. There might have been more voices, more sounds but he focused on the closest. A single voice, soft and quiet as thought whispering but it was comforting and he desperately wanted to listen. 

“… and I think you know that. Do you? I never _said_ anything, though I did not.. I had an inkling you might have. I’m not sure how these types of things are done, though. But here I am. Still. I’m still here. I should have gone home by now!” 

The voice paused and then a scoff. 

“You are an _absolute_ idiot. I have never met someone so reckless with their own life as you are. Not that I could say that you, not..” Another pause, though it was longer and he thought he heard another voice but it seemed far away. The comforting voice came back a moment later. 

“I hope you wake up. I am going to smack you, when you do. I won’t even feel bad about it, I think you deserve it.” It seemed to be quiet for a while and he struggled on opening his eyes. He wanted to, badly, but he stopped at the sound of crying coming from the same direction as the soft voice. 

“I don’t want you to die, Thorin, please, you can’t.. you.. we have the mountain again, no one is going to take it from you now, please, wake up, don’t leave me, I.. I can’t.. I never told you that I love you and I want to now, I don’t care if you don’t love me, I just want to be able to tell you.” 

It wrenched his eyes open to the bright light filtering in through a tent opening. Bilbo sat to his left, a hand stilled in Thorin’s hair and the other trying to stifle the cries. 

“I love you too.” His voice was hoarse, rough and the words were nearly stuck in his throat. 

Bilbo’s eyes snapped to his and the tears started anew while he lightly smacked Thorin’s cheek, choking out that the dwarf was an idiot. 


	14. Things You Said After It Was Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 2015. A minific prompted by violet-iron on tumblr. Not happy warning.

It had been silent too long, as if it had been dragged out when he’d said the few words. Words that held more power than he had been willing to admit to possessing. 

Thorin stared at him from the couch. Bilbo couldn’t describe the expression. It wasn’t one he’d seen on his boyfriend.. no.. ex-boyfriend’s face before. He had seen the man angry before, rarely directly at him but he had seen it. There were tears, he thought he could see them, forming in the corner of his eyes. Perhaps they were like how people always described angry, upset crying. Hot tears. 

He knew Thorin was upset. 

 He’d said _I can’t do this_ , because he couldn’t and he had watched Thorin’s face close off. He’d watched the man slump down on the couch and just stare at him. 

“Are you going to say anything?” 

He didn’t. Thorin didn’t say a thing. He just stared at Bilbo, the hurt tears still collecting in his eyes. It wasn’t as if Bilbo had declared everything over but.. he.. he had well done that, even if just in different words. 

So Thorin said nothing. And Bilbo left, many words still on his tongue that he wanted to say but couldn’t, not to that face. He wished Thorin had shouted at him, perhaps, anything but the silence he’d left him in. 


	15. Things You Said When You Were Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 2015. Prompted by gingerdeadmancookie on tumblr. Set in Laketown, because I love Laketown.

Bilbo hadn’t seen Thorin drunk before. He’d seen the other dwarves drunk. The night at Bag End before the quest had everyone but Bilbo, Gandalf and Thorin fairly drunk. Dwarves, though, seemed to hold their ale well.

But.. maybe _not_ Thorin.

Definitely not Thorin, on second thought. Bilbo watched him amused from the other side of the room. They’d been gifted a nice feast. Not anything too extravagant, though that wasn’t surprising considering how Laketown looked overall. There were a couple of Men celebrating the dwarves departure on the morrow, but not many. 

Bilbo felt content far away from most of it, tucked in the corner and drinking ale quietly. Bofur had gone into a rendition of yet another dwarf song. The company joined in after a verse and to Bilbo’s amusement, some of the Men seemed to be trying to sing along with them. 

So he startled when Thorin sat down next to him. He’d sworn he had just seen the dwarf mixed in among the rest. Had he managed his way over to Bilbo without him noticing? 

Either way. The dwarf was smiling at him. Bilbo had seen him smile a couple of times, once at him but it was not a normal thing. 

“You look lovely.”

Bilbo floundered at the sudden compliment. There was a slight slur to his words, making Bilbo think he might to take all of the words his friend said with a grain of salt. 

“Absolutely lovely,” he continued, leaning closer to Bilbo. “Do you know how lovely you are? Have you seen the way the sun hits your curls just so…” He smiled, looking at Bilbo softly. 

“Er,” Bilbo managed. He didn’t really know what to say. 

“Even lovely after riding down a river on a barrel, put in Men’s clothes,” Thorin rattled on. “How do you do that?” 

Bilbo raised an eyebrow. 

“You are full of surprises,” Thorin decided, reaching over with his free hand to pat one of Bilbo’s. 

Bilbo tried to offer Thorin a smile though it came out looking a little confused while the dwarf continued rambling on about the hobbit. 


	16. Things You Said Under The Stars and In The Grass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 2015. Minific prompted by Jonna. Fireflies and Shire AU.

There were some nights, which ended up being more than less, that they sat out on top of the hill of Bag End. The tree on top held a perfect spot to sit, day or night. 

Smoke lazily floated far up in the night sky, dissipating from the smoke rings Bilbo was making. Thorin had yet to catch onto the art of it but he preferred smoking by itself. The hobbit could make smoke rings all he wanted. They were sitting there, under the welcoming leaves of the oak tree and peering up at the stars between. Grass tickled his calves and feet, bared to the warmer summer nights. 

Bilbo let out a humming noise. “Oh, there we are!”

“What?” Thorin turned from investigating the stars to look at him. 

The hobbit tapped his lip with the end of his pipe before using it to point out in the night. In the Shire, the stars provided enough light and there were very few clouded nights. But he couldn’t see what Bilbo was pointing out. At least not at first, but then a light blinked in and a moment later out. Oh. Fireflies. 

Thorin tilted his head, looking at Bilbo with a soft smile. 

“The stars are here,” his hobbit said, smiling as he went back to his pipe and smoke rings. “I was worried they wouldn’t show up, but this is the time of year…”

Strong affection bloomed in his chest as he leaned more against his newly wed husband, sliding his free hand into Bilbo’s free hand and watching the fireflies dance in the night. 


	17. Sunburnt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2015. This was written for me hitting 2k followers on tumblr. Shire AU.

The afternoon sun was hot on his shoulders. They’d been at it all morning in the garden of Bag End, excluding a few breaks for food. When he’d offered to help, Thorin had not been expecting this much work and effort.

It was just a garden, for Maker’s sake.

Bilbo had his hands buried in the dirt as he worked, turning it over and over again in his hands. He’d heard hobbits preach about growing things, had heard Bilbo talk about his garden on the journey here but the way he handled the dirt surprised him. There was a gentleness to it, far more than he’d seen beforehand.

And if anyone had told him he’d be crouched next to a hobbit, working the morning away in a garden, he would have laughed.

Now, though, he wiggled his fingers in the soil. He’s not nearly as interested in it as Bilbo is. It feels nice, certainly. It’s very soft and rich. But his only experience with the ground and digging is mining. He had never done much of that either.

It was a warm, almost hot day and the morning sun especially. Bilbo had said they would be done by the time it was lunch. That, thus far, had been his saving grace of the gardening.

At some point, Thorin had discarded his usual tunic, which left him with no shirt. It hadn’t mattered since they were both tending to the garden and his back was the only ‘view’ anyone would be getting. The warm morning weather had kept many hobbits back at their burrows, though.

“I think there may be rain later,” stated Bilbo as he sat back and brushed his hands together to rid them of clinging dirt.

He only nodded in response as he sat back. When he looked over at the hobbit, Bilbo looked very amused.

“Put your shirt back on and we’ll go back in, I think I have fixings for a cold lunch.”

Thorin rolled his eyes as he pulled his tunic back on. The gesture likely went unseen by the hobbit but it didn’t matter. They were inside minutes later.

Though he didn’t quite understand it, the inside of Bag End was much cooler than the day outside. He’d asked about it, but Bilbo’s only answer had been something about being underground. The burrows weren’t quite underground, Thorin thought.

While Bilbo rooted around in the pantry and kitchen for lunch, he walked further in and paused by the roots that curled inside of Bag End. They were oak roots, which Thorin had regarded in surprise. Of all the tree to rest on top of Bilbo’s home…

They had only been in the Shire for a week or two. Many hobbits turned their noses up at Bilbo and especially at Thorin. They were still dealing with retrieving all of Bilbo’s furniture back.

However, there were a few hobbits that liked Bilbo and were kind to him. His cousins mainly, the Tooks and Brandybucks, and a neighbor or two. He’d already taken a liking to the Gamgees, a small family that lived in the next burrow. Hamfast Gamgee was Bilbo’s gardener, since he had come back as he had had a different gardener when he left, and a kind man.

He ran his hand over one of the roots before heading back towards the kitchen. Bilbo was humming to himself as he made their lunch. Despite it being a short time, they had already adjusted to life this way. Thorin still did not know what he was doing, though. He should have gone on to Ered Luin, to see his sister and the rest of his people.

A part of him could not leave Bilbo now, after everything that happened.

“Do you want to take a bath after luncheon?”

Thorin hummed as he approached the smaller being. Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him, pausing in food preparation.

“Well?”

“I suppose…” Thorin smiled as he draped himself lightly over Bilbo’s shoulders. Bilbo snorted.

“Oh, what a dignified king you are.”

Even though there was not nearly enough meat, Thorin enjoyed whatever Bilbo ended up making for their meals. He had far too many greens on the plate but after a week, the dwarf began to adjust to them. He preferred meat, of course, but Bilbo always smiled more when he ate the greens.

“I think the heat is bad enough that we may as well take a cold bath, what do you think?” Bilbo asked as he cleared another plate.

Thorin had not adjusted to the appetite hobbits had. He didn’t think he could.

“That sounds nice.”

“Well,” Bilbo pushed his plate away and stood up. “Go on and to the bathroom, I’ll be there with the water.”

Thorin did head to the bath but he did not step into the tub. As nice as cold water sounded, he didn’t feel like having it dumped on him while sitting. He did, however, pull his shit off and winced a little.

Had he worked his shoulders that hard?

Before he could reach up to rub the muscles, Bilbo came in with water. Soon enough, water filled the tub. He tested it with a finger. It wasn’t ice cold, at least and before he could think much more on it, Bilbo had slipped into the water.

He was soon to join the hobbit, sighing as he dipped below the cool water. It felt far more refreshing that he had expected.

They were sat like that for a while and when Thorin eventually opened an eye, he noticed Bilbo looking at him oddly.

“What is it?”

“Turn around,” said Bilbo, a frown forming on his lips.

The dwarf obeyed, turning around slowly. The tub itself wasn’t too large and it barely fit both of them. On an occasion, Bilbo had muttered about ordering a larger one. They hadn’t yet.

Thorin startled when Bilbo’s hand touched his shoulder and then his back. The touches were followed by a concerned noise and he glanced over his shoulder at Bilbo.

“I should have kept you in the shade,” Bilbo sighed.

“Pardon?”

“You’ve burnt your back.”

“I did not.”

“You did. You were out too long with your shirt off. I bet your face is burnt as well.”

Thorin frowned at him.

“I’m not surprised,” the hobbit said. “You hardly spent any time outside without all your furs and armor on. I’ll see if Hamfast has any aloe vera…”

Though they finished their bath leisurely still, now Thorin found himself keenly aware of the pain on his shoulders and back. Light touches were not bad, but moving his arms above his head hurt. After the bath, the fabric of his tunic did not feel pleasant on his burnt back either.

He didn’t want to walk around Bag End with no shirt on but it seemed he had no choice unless he cound a fabric that did not rub wrong against his skin.

Bilbo had quickly dressed, his hair wet still as he headed out of Bag End and over to the Gamgees. Thorin didn’t know what the plant he needed was. The only burns he had suffered were from the forge and Dis had always treated those with salves or Oin’s help if necessary.

The hobbit came back shortly but he disappeared into the kitchen for a while. During that time, Thorin sat bent forward on one the chairs. Even leaning against the chair hurt. Everything seemed to be a pain. He wondered how he would sleep that night. Surely even the sheets of the bed would irritate him.

Thorin pulled himself out of his thoughts when Bilbo came in from the kitchen. He had a bowl in his hand which appeared to be filled with a clearish… something.

“Sit on the floor, in front of the chair.”

He moved after a moment, carefully going from awkwardly sitting in the chair onto the floor with enough room for Bilbo to sit down in the chair. Sometimes Bilbo braided his hair and it was easier if he sat on the floor. Right now didn’t seem the best time, and Thorin wanted to know what was in the bowl.

Before he could ask, he felt the pressure of Bilbo’s fingers and a cool wetness spread across a portion of his back.

“Ah!”

“Sorry, I should have warned you,” apologized Bilbo, before he continued applying and carefully rubbing whatever it was on Thorin’s back and shoulders.

It didn’t hurt. In fact, it felt cooling and nice.

“This is the best way to keep the burn from getting worse, though you should stay out of direct sunlight until it’s better. I mean, you can go outside, but keep a shirt on. Also, I don’t want to hear you fidgeting and complaining tonight.”

By the time Bilbo was done, he’d covered all of Thorin’s back and shoulders. Though it felt nice, it also felt slightly sticky.

“Let it dry before you put a shirt on again. It might still hurt.”

Still, that night the sheets didn’t irritate his back as much as he had thought they would.


	18. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2015. Prompted by Jonna! I'm not quite sure what the prompt was but it may have been, “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

Bilbo had discovered for his own, and rather quickly, that Thorin took everything on his own. Or he tried to. During the Quest, the king had burdened himself with responsibility. Not just his own, but for every single member of the Company. 

He seemed to feel responsible for all of their fates. 

And once they had reclaimed Erebor, Bilbo had thought that the dwarf king would stop piling that responsibility onto his shoulders. It made perfect sense. He had reclaimed his home, provided it back to his people, there was no reason for him to continue feeling that weight. 

But…

No, he hadn’t. It wasn’t hard to notice that Thorin was weighed down by the responbilites of kingship. However, Bilbo noticed there appeared to be more than just that. Caring for one’s people was not a bad thing and Bilbo did not think that. 

Wasn’t it worse, though, that the king shared none of his burdens with anyone?

It seemed particularly bad that day and that was how Bilbo had ended up approaching Thorin. He wrung his wrists. 

“What is it?” Thorin’s expression appeared soft. It would be, if not for the hint of stress. 

“I’ve noticed..” Bilbo started and then trailed off. Thorin would likely deny being told it directly. 

Thorin stared at him. 

“Hey,” he started again. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

The king tilted his head, frowning a little. “Yes?”

“You don’t have to.. no one would ask you to carry all this responsibility. Not after all you have done for them.”

He could see the surprise on Thorin’s face that melted into a gentleness. 

“I-”

“At least, share some of it with me?” Bilbo held out his hand as he talked. The dwarf’s eyes slipped from his face to his hand. Bilbo kept his eyes on Thorin’s face. 

He felt his dwarf’s hand come to rest lightly on his. The slight smile shone warmly. 


	19. An Afternoon Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August 2015. More of the Arranged Marriage AU, introducing kids more.

“It’s perfect weather,” Bilbo beamed as he dressed Linnea. She could walk now but her pudgy little fingers had trouble grasping buttons and tying her boots. His youngest daughters speech was developing fine though she jumped between Westron and Khuzdul during sentences. Thorin held conversation with her well but Bilbo struggled at times. 

Thorin came into the children’s room, Farin on his shoulders and Delisi trailing after him. They were both already dressed but they were old enough to take care of those small things. 

“What was that?” 

“I said,” Bilbo said as he sat back. Linnea grinned happily at him. “The weather is perfect for a picnic. And I already asked Balin, so we are going to have a picnic. Just us.” 

The hobbit looked up and smiled at his husband, then the children. Delisi’s hair had been swept into a long single braid that ran down her back. Farin’s hair also braided into one singular braid but that had been coiled into a bun. 

“Where’s Frodo?”

“He’s still getting ready. I’ll take Linnea, you go check on him?” Thorin offered, opening his arms. Linnea ran for him instantly with a squeal. 

Bilbo walked out of the room and toward the other rooms across the small hall. Frodo’s room was separate from their dwarflings but he rarely slept there. He was almost always in Thorin and Bilbo’s bed. 

Frodo struggled with the snaps on the dwarfish clothing. Like Bilbo had, long years ago. 

“Hello, lad, let me help,” Bilbo smiled before kneeling to help him. 

“Are we going on a picnic?” 

“Yes, yes,” he chuckled. 

“Good. I don’t like this mountain.” Frodo pouted. 

Bilbo paused and sat back, looking his adopted son over. “You will.”

- 

They’d settled on a small hill near the mountain. Not too far, but it was comfortable enough. A few guards had come with me. Bilbo had grumbled about it but Thorin insisted. 

Their children’s safety was important. 

“Here we are,” Bilbo proclaimed as he opened the basket. 

Farin signed something and Bilbo smiled softly. “Yes, I brought strawberries just for you.”

While handing over the box of strawberries, Delisi ducked under his arm and stole a sandwich before scrambling over to sit in Thorin’s lap. Bilbo only rolled his eyes and pulled out the easier to eat food for Linnea. 

Frodo stared at his hands then at the basket. 

“You can take what you want,” Delisi said loudly, through a mouthful of sandwich. Bilbo sent her a warning look. She swallowed before continuing. “Papa doesn’t care, as long as it isn’t Farin’s strawberries or Linnea’s food, but that’s just mush!” 

Farin signed again, looking curiously at Frodo. Unfortunately. the little hobbit hadn’t learned either of the dwarf languages. Delisi giggled. 

“What?” 

“He said you can have some of his strawberries if you want!” She looked back at their brother as he signed something else. “Because you look sad and we’re your family and you shouldn’t be sad.”

Thorin smiled at all of them while Linnea said a mix of Khuzdul and Westron words. 

“I wish it were like this, every day,” Frodo said later when they’d gone back into Erebor. He and Bilbo were alone while the rest of their family napped.

“It will be,” Bilbo said, reaching to ruffle Frodo’s hair. “If you let it.”


	20. Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August 2015. Requested by kurosmind on tumblr: Consort AU, somebody manages somehow to kidnap Thorin for whatever reason and Bilbo flips shit and then goes into cold rage mode to find his dumb husband :D

Bilbo woke to a cold bed. Not entirely unusual. Thorin had to be up early in the mornings, a commitment his consort didn’t have himself. 

He sat up, yawning and stretching before huddling back under the blanket. It wasn’t just the bed. The entire room was cold. Thorin always lit the fireplace in their room when he left. 

It didn’t even look like the king had returned last night. He hadn’t been there when Bilbo fell asleep but… 

The other side of the bed wasn’t rumpled (Thorin rarely made the bed nowadays) and there were no dirty clothes. His husband had not returned last night. Or this morning. 

The hobbit wasn’t worried quite yet. Perhaps Thorin had fallen asleep while working on papers? 

After dressing, he headed out into the sitting room. No husband sleeping in the armchairs. Thorin’s study door was slightly open but when Bilbo looked inside, no dwarf king. He even took a quick glance in his own study but of course Thorin wasn’t there. 

Bilbo found Balin in the large dining hall south of their quarters. Most of the company were already there and breaking their fast together, as they usually did. 

“Ah, there you are. Will Thorin be along shortly?” 

“Will Thorin be…? What are you talking about? He isn’t here?”

Balin shook his head. “It’s unusual for him to not wake up before you but I thought…”

“I haven’t seen him since dinner,” the hobbit sighed. He furrowed his eyebrows together. Where was his husband?

Breakfast was far too quiet. Bilbo couldn’t stomach breakfast with how worried he was. 

Ori came in towards the end of the hour. He looked nervous, a hint of worry in his face. 

“The princes are missing.”

Bilbo’s heart sunk. Something was not right. Thorin _and_ their nephews? 

He was up in a flash, balling his fist. It had the entire Company looking at him in surprise. 

“They’ve been kidnapped!” He snapped and then hit the table. “We need to find them. Now.”

For his luck, the company was as eager to find their king as he was. Otherwise, the way Bilbo had acted would have been a little rude. He found himself snapping and ordering dwarves around. 

It must have been terrifying, because the guards obeyed without hesitation. 

“I just don’t know where they could be!” Bilbo seethed. He pulled away when Balin tried to touch his shoulder. “I’m going to kill whoever took them.” 

“We’ll.. we’ll find them, laddie.”

“You sent messages to Lord Thranduil and King Bard?” Balin nodded. Bilbo let out a sigh. “I am.. going to my garden.”

He hadn’t even thought to look there in his worry and rage. 

The oak tree had grown in its long years. Though it wasn’t fully grown, it was a good height and taller than him, than Thorin as well. In its shade, there was his husband. 

And his nephews. 

Thorin looked thoroughly annoyed. The boys grinned when they saw Bilbo stomping towards them. 

“What. Is. Going. On.” He demanded. 

“We thought,” Kili started. “Uncle needed a break for once.”

“A _break_?”

“Sure,” Fili said. “He’s busy from sunrise until dusk.”

Bilbo pinched his nose as his anger dissipated. At least they were all fine. No one had taken them. 

“You are in _so_ much trouble.”

“What, are you going to ground us?” Kili laughed, elbowing Fili. 

“Oh no,” Bilbo said. “I think your mother would be interested to hear what you did.”

The brothers glanced at each other and gulped. 


	21. A Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October 2015. Written for Jonna (you can probably see a theme of my writings here). It's the first meeting of Thorin and Bilbo from the arranged marriage au.

“I don’t understand it,” proclaimed Bilbo as he walked between Dis and Frerin. He’d only been in the kingdom of Erebor for two days. Though he held Frerin in some sort of… friendship, he had only met his future sister-in-law. Her bright blonde hair mirrored Frerin’s. 

He wondered if Thorin also looked like the two. It was a tad confusing, as King Thrain did not have blonde hair. The Queen Consort did, however. 

“What do you not understand?” asked Dis, turning her eyes his way. Her eyebrows were lifted in question. 

“He wants to see Thorin,” yawned Frerin, hand muffling his words slightly. “Hobbits don’t seem to understand arranged marriages and all the traditions behind them.”

“We don’t have arranged marriages in the Shire, I told you.”

Dis chuckled, gathering her skirts up. They were headed to the market, the first time Bilbo would see it, but unlikely to be the last. The royal siblings had told him that he wouldn’t have to ever cook for himself again, which had left Bilbo indignant. 

After all, he was a Hobbit and his father had taught him more about cooking than anything else (his mother happened to be a disaster in the kitchen, but Bilbo’s green thumb had come from her). 

Erebor turned out to be grand and beautiful, different from Ered Luin though there were many similarities Bilbo had picked up on. He had only seen the front gate, the throne room and many halls, besides the rooms he’d been staying in. Now, though, the prince and princess had realized it was not likely he wanted to be cooped up in those rooms for the next two weeks. 

Bilbo found himself grateful that Dwarrows were not as thick-skulled as many made them out to be. 

“Arranged marriages aren’t common among our kind, either,” admitted Frerin. “Though they happen at times, usually only for those like Thorin. And, it’s good for securing alliances.”

“It’d just be nice to know him before we marry,” murmured Bilbo as they came onto a high step over the market. Two sets of steps ran down to the market floor from either side. Like many pathways in Erebor, no rail kept them securely from falling. It made Bilbo nervous. 

“Well,” interrupted Dis, her hand resting on Bilbo’s shoulder and directing him toward the left stairs. “As you’ve requested, the market! I can’t see why you want to be here. It loses its novelty quickly.”

“You say that because you don’t like taking your sons here,” teased Frerin as he followed them down. 

On the floor of the market, there were several stalls of everything. It was nothing like the Shire markets. He could hardly wrap his mind around everything around him. 

Dis kept her hand tight on his shoulder, smiling forcefully at passing dwarrows. 

“Once you’re married, you’ll have a ring and you can simply show it to pay for purchases. Don’t get me that look,” said Dis sharply. “Gold will be taken from the treasury. It’s much easier than toting it about. Then, the merchants can send it with a guard.” 

“Don’t spend recklessly,” chuckled Frerin. He’d somehow managed disappearing and reappearing without them noticing, if the food in his hand was any indication. 

His sister rolled her eyes, then dropped her hand from Bilbo’s shoulder. 

“I think we can trust Bilbo here on his own for a while. We’ll be around. Don’t wander too far. There are guards around here as well, you can hail one down if… anyone causes you trouble.” 

He watched them go, separating in different directions. From what Bilbo can see, the market has sections and small gaps between each section to indicate a change. It’s quite orderly, though he isn’t sure which section is which or where he is. 

As it turns out, standing in the midst of the market is not a good idea. The dwarrows in the market go about their day, though a few avoid him, most bump into him and then grumble at him with words he cannot understand. 

It happened that one burly dwarf bustles by, and while an accident, knocked Bilbo almost off his feet. He barely caught himself, but doesn’t fall thanks to a large hand landing on his shoulder and a broad chest against his back. 

“Oh, goodness,” yelped Bilbo and jumped away, turning around to look at the dwarf who’d kept him from falling on his bum. 

His eyes widened. 

The dwarf standing in front of him, the only member of the crowd not moving, was certainly unlike most of the dwarrows Bilbo has had interaction with. He was not burly at all, though not thin, the Hobbit thought he must be more muscle than anything else.  

His eyes were the most brilliant shade of blue, sparkling with amusement and if Bilbo lost his breath for a moment, well, no one would know. This dwarf had dark hair, the tiniest bit of silver peeking through. It was not braided as intricate as many dwarves did theirs, neither was his beard grand. 

“I apologize,” managed Bilbo, when his breath returned. 

“I hardly think it was your fault,” answered the dwarf. “You are.. a bit smaller than a dwarf. The dwarrows at the market do not watch for beings smaller than themselves.” 

Bilbo screwed his lips up slightly. He disliked being referred to as small. 

The dwarf held up a gloved hand, his eyes holding amusement still. 

“You must be the Prince’s betrothed?” Once Bibo had nodded, the dwarf’s shoulders lost some of their tension. “Ah. Princess Dis sent me to accompany you.”

“Oh.”

Hadn’t she said she’d trust him on his own? Maybe he wasn’t supposed to have noticed the guard. Well, Bilbo assumed the dwarf a guard. 

“You’re a guard, then…?”

“Aye,” confirmed the dwarf as he came to stand beside Bilbo. A few dwarrows were pausing but they quickly went on their way. “I am a member of the Royal Guard. I am.. Korrin.” 

“Oh,” said Bilbo, then cursed himself silently. That was not eloquent. “I am Bilbo Baggins, though I suppose you must already know that.”

“I have heard you name,” answered Korrin, then frowned. “I do not think the market is the best place for you.”

“You know,” said Bilbo in relief. “I agree with you.”

An expression he couldn’t quite pin crossed over Korrin’s face before the dwarf guard beckoned him back towards the stairs. Once they were up and away from the crowd, Bilbo felt better. 

“I..” started Bilbo, for he couldn’t handle the silence now. “I asked Princess Dis and Prince Frerin to take me here, it’s not exactly what I thought it would be.” 

“I imagine it must be quite different from the Shire.”

“It really is.” 

Korrin smiled at him then looked back down at the market. Bilbo fidgeted, tucking his fingers into his pockets and feeling the light weight of their contents. He brushed his fingers against his handkerchief and then noticed Korrin was looking at him again. 

“Well, I suppose I..”

“Do you like books?” 

Bilbo blinked, trying to process the question as quickly as he could. It seemed to have come from nowhere, for Korrin looked confused at his own inquiring. Then, his face smoothed over and he looked expectantly at Bilbo. 

Well, he thought, well, Korrin was a little too attractive. 

“I.. I do enjoy books, yes.” 

Korrin immediately started walking, almost leaving Bilbo if he had not paused to look back at the Hobbit. 

“I will take you to the library. Have you been there yet?” 

“Oh, no,” said Bilbo quickly then hurried after Korrin until he walked at the guard’s side. No one seemed to be in the halls. “No, yesterday was quite busy. I didn’t think to ask after the library.” 

Truly, the halls seemed void of other dwarrows. Korrin hardly seemed concerned though. 

“Where is everyone?”

“There is, I believe there is a negotiation taking place. As it is with your people, many dwarrows are attending it in interest. King Thrain has allowed it. Though how much they truly negotiate…”

“I imagine not much,” murmured Bilbo. Korrin looked at him, raising his eyebrows shockingly like Dis had. “I mean, hobbits.. we tend to have a hard time negotiating. Not what we’re bad it! Look at it this way, my grandfather only held a small meeting with the dwarves from Ered Luin and his children to discuss this arrangement, when it was originally made.” 

“That took long?” 

“No, it was not very long at all, so my mother told me. But the Old Took simply said, ‘Whatever you’d like. We’ll agree.’ I think he believed we owed your people a great debt.”

Korrin stayed silent as they rounded a corner. At the end of the hall, the entrance to a grand library stood proudly. 

“The library,” said Korrin, effectively ignoring the rest of the conversation. “Though I have realized now you will not be able to read any books from our shelves.”

“Ah,” exclaimed Bilbo, stopping before he entered. “Lord Balin is teaching me some base of your language.”

The dwarf looked amused by some part of what he’d said. Bilbo raised his eyebrows but after a moment, Korrin shook his head. 

“Let me find a book you might like, I could read it to you.”

“Oh, I don’t..” he’d trailed off, as they’d walked inside the library and there at one of the tables sat Ori. Bilbo had not seen him since they’d made it to Erebor’s gates. He felt a swell of delight in his chest. “Oh!”

Korrin looked at Bilbo curiously. When Bilbo pointed at Ori, smiling, the dwarf guard turned his attention towards the young dwarf. 

“Ori. He was part of the caravan that came to get me. Ori!”

 The young dwarf looked up from what he seemed to be furiously scribbling then dropped his quill in surprise. 

“Bilbo!” As he shouted, Ori stood up and then quickly made his way over toward the Hobbit. “Oh, I was wondering when you would find this library.”

“Yes,” beamed Bilbo and turned to Korrin, who… was not there. “Oh.”

“What is it?” asked Ori, then peered over Bilbo’s shoulder. There was no sign of the dwarf guard. 

“I had a guard with me. He seems to have run off.”

Bilbo frowned then noticed Ori looked worried. The dwarf had brought a hand to his chin, touching his hair and chewing on his lip. 

“What? Princess Dis sent him to help me about. Even though she said I could handle the market myself.” 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” assured Ori. “It’s just… Her Highness should have sent Dwalin. It wasn’t Dwalin?”

“No,” muttered Bilbo. “It wasn’t Dwalin.”

After a long moment of silence, Ori shrugged his shoulders. “Well. There is that negotiation with the hobbits going on at the moment. Prince Thorin has to be there and Dwalin is his personal guard. I suppose she would have had to send a different guard.”

Around the corner of the one of the shelves, Thorin breathed out quietly as Bilbo followed Ori back to his table. Then he cursed himself. What was he doing? 

He was not supposed to see his betrothed until the day they married. It was not a normal tradition, but it had been his father’s request. Thorin knew it was because his father did not trust him to not ruin this before he was even married. They’d told the hobbits it was a tradition, easy enough. 

Bilbo did not know what Thorin looked like, though. His siblings looked nothing like him. 

He’d potentially ruined this entire arrangement. Even if he did not tell Bilbo outright, when they were married in two weeks time…

Thorin groaned quietly into his hands.

 

Somehow, he found himself within the guest quarters. There were, surprisingly, no guards in this hall. That did not sit well with him. All the hobbits, Bilbo included, were staying here. At the end of the two weeks, all but Bilbo would leave for the Shire. Bilbo would move to Thorin’s rooms. 

He tried not to think about the consequences set in stone already. 

A hobbit he didn’t know had stepped out of the room and he paused at the sight of Thorin. The night before, Thorin had been scolded for not attending the negotiations. After that, though, his father had sighed and decided that perhaps Thorin did not need to attend them. 

“Hello,” managed Thorin. The hobbit gave him an odd look. “Where is Bilbo Baggins’ room?”

“Why should I tell you?”  

Before Thorin could answer, Bilbo came out of the door to his left. The other hobbit scowled at Thorin. 

“Oh!” Bilbo looked between them then frowned at the other hobbit. “Adalgrim! I told you not to be rude.”

Adalgrim muttered under his breath before sticking his nose up slightly. “Forgive me if I do not appreciate a dwarf skulking about here, cousin.”

Then he marched off. When he was out of sight, Bilbo turned back towards Thorin. A wary smile crept onto Bilbo’s lips. 

“I’m very sorry about that, Korrin. Er.. what are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to make up for yesterday. I’m afraid I had to be called away at an inconvenient time. But I assure you that will not happen today. I have already thought of a book you might like.”

Bilbo brightened up, following Thorin towards the library. It was a much shorter walk than from the market. 

“I did not realize it was so close!” He looked more delighted as they entered the library. Then he paused. “Oh. Where is Ori?”

“Do you suppose he lives here, Master Baggins?” Thorin tried to hide his amusement. 

“Oh, I suppose not… Well. Come, let’s see what stories _you_ think I might like.”


	22. Lullaby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> October 2015. Thorin sings a lullaby to one of his children. Maybe slight spoilers for the arranged marriage au so if you don’t wanna be spoiled about the kids…

The cry shocks Bilbo awake, forcing him into sitting up despite being not fully awake. He can’t see in the dark of their rooms. But the cry is coming from somewhere beyond the foot of the bed. With the dark, of course, he cannot see for sure but he knows the crib is there. 

Bringing in three children at the same time had not left them with enough room for all of them. The nursery had long been turned into a child’s room, big enough for Farin and Delisi. 

They’d had to dig up the crib from within the stores of furniture, as well. 

Bilbo had only managed blinking sleep out of his eyes when Thorin’s had pushed him gently back down. 

“Sleep,” murmured his husband. “I’ve got this.”

It was harder to fall back asleep in the wee hours of the morning. Bilbo closed his eyes despite the dark as he settled. He could hear as Thorin stood from the bed, the soft padding of his feet before he stopped at the crib. 

Linnea’s crying was softer than the first sharp cry. While it was not an every night occurrence, it had become a common one. She usually calmed a little when she was picked up but it never fully stopped her. 

Thorin’s voice, softer than normal and so Bilbo could not make out the words, carried toward him. His husband had a particularly wonderful voice, even more when he sang. That was his method of soothing the children when they woke in the middle of the night crying. 

Most lullabies were in Khuzdul, and Thorin refused to translate them into the Common tongue. It would ruin them, so he had said. 

Bilbo drifted back to sleep easier than he normally would of, but startled slightly when he felt Thorin settle back into bed. 

“You weren’t singing that one about Durin, were you?”

Thorin stayed quite. 

“Because I don’t know if that’s an appropriate lullaby for her.”

“My father sang it to Frerin, Dis and I. And Dis sang it to Fili and Kili-”

“I just wish you’d sing nicer stories to them.”

“Linnea doesn’t understand any of the words, Bilbo. Besides it’s-”

“Traditional, I _know_.”

Bilbo grumbled under his breath, lifting up one of the pillows and smacking Thorin lightly with it. “Go to bed.” 


	23. Glasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 2015. requested by thorinwiggles; for a fluff prompt: bilbo deciding that thorin's eyesight is getting worse and takes him to a doctor. thorin's pride is wounded and he's mulish, but he goes along anyway and makes sure bilbo gets tested too. turns out they both needed glasses anyway

“I don’t need glasses,” grumbles Thorin, even as he squints to try and read what Bilbo is holding up. 

Unfortunately, his husband notices. 

Bilbo sets down the piece of paper and walks closer to Thorin, his hands on his hips as he stands before him. 

“You do. I’m taking you to see an eye doctor.”

“What? I _don’t need_ -”

“You eyesight is obviously worse than it used to be. It’s not going to hurt your to have a doctor take a look. Put your shoes on, I’ll drive.. since I can’t trust your sight now.”

Thorin scowls while Bilbo hides a smile behind his hand. But, he puts his shoes on anyway and follows Bilbo to the car. Not easily, though. He was going to prove Bilbo wrong, about this eyes. He sits in the car with his arms crossed until they arrive. 

Bilbo rolls his eyes as they step out. 

“Stubborn as always,” he mutters under his breath as they walk inside. It’s only, luckily, a few minutes of waiting before one of the doctors comes to get them. 

Thorin won’t let Bilbo stay in the sitting area, apparently under the impression that his eyesight is just fine and wants to see Bilbo’s face when he’s wrong. 

It’s a few long tests later that the doctor sits back and smiles at Thorin. 

“Well! It’s a good thing you came in,” she starts and Bilbo grins while Thorin frowns. “I’d say you likely needed glasses sooner, but that’s alright. It’s not too bad, at least, you should be able to go without them until we get the frames and lenses in.” 

The doctor is standing up and Thorin is quick to say something before she can. 

“Wait, test him too.”

She blinks and Bilbo turns to stare at his husband. After a moment, the doctor shrugs and takes Bilbo to do the vision tests as well. 

Thorin is more than a little pleased when they come back and Bilbo looks less than happy. 

“Well?”

“Not too bad, though, as I’ve just told your husband, he only needs a pair of reading glasses. You can pick frames for those as well, if you’d like.”

Bilbo beams slightly, while Thorin huffs and crosses his arms before they both follow the doctor out to where the racks of frames are. Immediately, Bilbo starts to look at the frames but Thorin mopes just behind him. 

“What is it?” 

Thorin glances up. “What?”

“You’re moping. What’s the problem? Glasses aren’t that bad, Thorin, and I’m sure we both feel better having that fixed.”

Thorin does agree with him on that point but… 

“They’ll look dumb.” 

At that, his husband turns around to stare at him. Bilbo’s eyebrows are both raised. 

“You won’t look dumb.”

“Yes, I will.”

Bilbo snorts and steps closer, glancing around quickly but they’re alone at the moment. He reaches up and wraps his arms around Thorin’s neck, forcing him to step closer and lower himself slightly. 

“You know, I think you’ll look quite handsome with glasses, even more than you are now…” Bilbo ghosts a kiss against Thorin’s lips before pulling away suddenly as the doctor steps back in, leaving Thorin with a faint blush. 


	24. Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 2015. Requested by an anon: Prompt- Modern Bagginshield AU where Bilbo is baking and he really enjoys listening to classical music while he bakes. So when Thorin comes in during one of the stanzas of the Never Ending Waltz, Bilbo starts spontaneously teaching him to dance and ends up forgetting about the cookies in the oven until he smells them burning

It had become habit of Bilbo’s, a setup of everything he needed to bake and his phone propped on the counter. In a few seconds, it would be streaming classical music throughout the kitchen. He kept quiet enough that it wouldn’t disturb Thorin.

Especially since the man currently napped in the living room.

Besides, the waltz he had on wasn’t that loud in the beginning. He hummed softly as he began putting ingredients for the cookies into a mixing bowl. Frodo needed them tomorrow morning for a school Christmas party. And Bilbo would not let him take something as atrocious as something from the grocery store. Sure, a bakery might be a good option. Though, why the boy might even think something like that when he had Bilbo for his uncle…

He shook his head, swaying slightly as he began the task of mixing the ingredients into dough. It took more work than people thought.

After a few good minutes of stirring and moving slightly to the music, Bilbo deemed the dough ready to be put on a cookie sheet. If he had more time, he might have made dough for cutting shapes (children liked those more) but he’d have to wait on the dough.

At the least, he liked working hands on with baking. Before touching the dough, he made sure his hands were clean and then formed small balls to place on the sheet. Then, he carefully place the tray in the oven and set the time.

Dusting off his hands on the apron, Bilbo turned around.

The waltz had a good bit of it left and he beamed, swaying more to the music than he had been before. A few stanzas had gone by when he heard a small cough and he startled out of the moment.

Thorin raised a brow, a soft smile upon on his lips.

“What are you doing?”

“I was… baking.”

“That doesn’t look much like baking, to me.”

“Well!” Bilbo huffed slightly, smiling.

Thorin crossed his arms, his eyebrow still raised curiously.

An idea popped into his mind as he looked at the other man and the waltz played in the background. They had never danced together before. Bilbo hadn’t bothered asking why, but he had a good feeling that it was because Thorin did not know how.

He held out his hand. Thorin looked at it then back to Bilbo.

“What?”

“Come here, come on,” urged Bilbo and after a moment, Thorin rolled his eyes and took Bilbo’s hand. He was smiling though. “Have you ever danced before?”

“No,” Thorin admitted after a moment.

Bilbo’s grin widened. Before Thorin could protest, he had pulled him closer.

“Here, put your arms here…” he instructed, waiting for Thorin to do so before he began a slow step. It tripped the man up at first but after a couple of minutes, he didn’t struggle as much. “There we go!”

He chuckled, glancing up at Thorin.

The other man looked quite red in the face but he smiled softly down at Bilbo. Then he stepped on Bilbo’s.

“So we have a long way to go,” chuckled Bilbo.

By the time the waltz had ended, Thorin had at least mastered a simple version of waltzing but Bilbo thought something was off. Not about Thorin per se, but there was a thought nagging at the back of his mind. He’d forgotten something… something…

Above him, Thorin wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“Is something burning?”

“Oh, _no_.” 


	25. Drunken Flirting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> January 2016. Requested by emsiecat; For the prompt what about established Bagginshield drunken hi jinks? Are they emotional drunks? Silly drunks? Completely all over each other mushy lovey dovey drunks? The Company is in various states of amusement and dismay.

“Bilbo’s goin’ to drink you under the table, like he does every time,” said Bofur. A grin was set on his face. 

Their drinking nights were not common, but they were also not few and far in between. They came when the opportunity fell. It was one of the only times the company could come together. The night almost always involved retelling of the Quest for Erebor, almost always exaggerated and added to. 

It also involved a drinking contest between the King and his Consort. 

Bilbo always won. Sort of. 

By the end of the night, the two were both ridiculously drunk. It just happened that Thorin couldn’t hold his ale as well as the smallest member of the Company. 

“You want to be on that?” 

Nori appeared at Bofur’s side. The betting was also a part of the night. They no longer bet money, since Bilbo always won, but it was more of a tradition than anything else. 

It was also fun to drag any unknowing dwarf at the tavern into it. 

“Why not?” Bofur smiled, spreading his hands in front of him as Bilbo came over. 

“Not this time,” declared Thorin, taking his ale from the hobbit. Bilbo rolled his eyes as he sat down. 

-

The thing about Thorin was that he didn’t like to admit defeat. Which was the only reason Bilbo managed to outdrink him. 

The other thing about Thorin was that he tended to forget who Bilbo was. Rather, that they were married. It didn’t happen every single time but it was fairly amusing when it did. The Company always hoped they’d glimpse it soon again. 

By this point, Thorin had long forgotten he was trying to win a drinking contest against his husband. He’d also forgotten that he had a husband. Mostly his thoughts were focused on the very cute hobbit sitting at the bar. All by himself. 

He sauntered over to the hobbit. Nori and Bofur stifled laughs while Balin looked on in slight shame for his King. The other were focused on ignoring their King in hopes he wouldn’t do anything utterly embarrassing. 

Said King planted one of his hands on the counter of the bar, leaning close to the hobbit. Bilbo twisted his head up, suppressing any show of emotion. Sometimes, Thorin seemed as though he might have forgotten the very important face that they were married, only to reveal he was not there that day. 

Bilbo always waited. 

Thorin looked him up and down, barely covering the motion. 

“Hello,” he practically purred. “Here all by yourself?”

“Well I came with someone,” Bilbo replied. “But it seems he’s disappeared.”

“Pity. He’s lost out, leaving you here alone like that.”

“Mm,” the hobbit had to turn away to hide his smile. 

“Can I buy you a drink?”

For the benefit of his husband, Bilbo turned back and gave him a long once-over. Besides, he had no complaint with openly admiring Thorin. 

“Oh, you can buy me _two_ drinks.” He winked and he watched the dwarf’s face redden immensely before he turned to the barkeep. 

Bilbo caught more members of the Company watching them. Nori and Bofur were practically in fits of laughter. Balin still looked shamed. Dwalin and Bifur were shaking their heads. Fili and Kili were suppressing eye rolls. 

He grinned as he accepted a drink from Thorin. “Now, tell me more about you, you _lovely_ dwarf.”

-

It didn’t take much more after Thorin became drunk that Bilbo would be. Any public shame the hobbit had went out the window once he had drank enough. Particularly with Thorin. 

In fact, a majority of the Company would find themselves embarrassed at them. Balin would have already left. 

“They’re so gross,” Kili grumbled as Bilbo practically sat himself in Thorin’s lap. “I think it’s about time we chased them to their rooms.”

“I don’t know,” Ori sighed, smiling a little as Bilbo kissed Thorin. They watched the King fluster for a moment before kissing the hobbit back. “I think it’s rather nice. And sweet.”

“Gross,” repeated Kili as they saw Thorin’s hands wander a little too low. 

“Perhaps we should,” relented Fili. “Uncle’s getting pretty handsy and I think they’ve embarrassed themselves publicly enough for one night.”

“I like when they dance,” Ori said, even as several members of the Company stood. “I know they’re not very gracefull, but it’s cute…”

“I prefer when they dance,” said Dori. “At least it’s appropriate for public!”

They wouldn’t be able to get the two away from each other now, but it wasn’t that hard to convince at least one of them to go somewhere more private. 


	26. Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> January 2016. Something from the arranged marriage au requested by Jonna. Focuses on one of the girls.

“Wait, _I_ have to give everyone gifts?”

The young dwarfling gave her hobbit father a confused glare. She knew plenty about the culture of hobbits, from what Bilbo had told her as she’d grown up in Erebor. He’d mentioned the tradition of birthdays in the Shire before but she hadn’t thought much about it. 

And here he was, saying that she would be having to give everyone else gifts. 

Except he only chuckled, shaking his head as he went back to cooking. Linnea turned on her other father. 

“ _Adad_! Tell me papa is kidding.”

“No, _nungul_ , he is not. This is a hobbit tradition. You don’t need to do anything extravagant.” 

Thorin gazed at his youngest daughter as she threw her hands up, stomping out of the kitchen and into one of the many rooms of Bag End. He hoped she would find Frodo, perhaps he might help her accept the culture difference better. 

Bilbo looked at him over his shoulder. After a moment, Thorin stood and walked over to his husband. 

“She says she wants to be here with us, but she still throws fits about the differences between Erebor and the Shire.”

“Our daughter is quite young, my dear hobbit. By dwarfish standards.”

Bilbo only hummed in reply, leaning back against Thorin as he stirred one of the soups for Linnea’s birthday dinner that night. 

The sound of feet, one pair louder than the other, came closer to the kitchen but neither of them moved. A second later, Linnea and Frodo came into the kitchen. The dwarf made a disgusted noise at the sight of her fathers. 

“Can’t leave you two alone before you’re all over each other! In a matter of seconds, Frodo!” She turned to the hobbit beside her but he only smiled endearingly at their fathers. 

Linnea rolled her eyes. 

“I wish Delisi and Farin were here!”

“I’m sure you will see them again, before too long,” said Thorin softly, turning to look at his daughter and son. “They’ll not be away from you for too long.”

“Is cousin Kili coming over tonight? And is he bringing the elf with him?”

“She has a name,” scolded Bilbo, turning to catch Frodo before he grabbed for one of the sweet rolls off the counter. “Honestly, you all but Delisi have adopted a bad attitude towards elves. They’re not bad!”

Thorin snorted. 

“You only want Delisi and Farin here to complain about hobbitish traditions,” said Frodo, ducking to the other side of the kitchen table before she could grab at him. 

“Better them!” Linnea said teasingly, picking up one of the cloths and throwing it at her younger brother. They were quick to run from the kitchen when Thorin started to separate from Bilbo. 


	27. Longer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> January 2016. Requested by emsiecat; I've been super into the idea of Bilbo growing his hair after all that art popped up on my dash. If you haven't already, what about a prompt to do with that? =)

It had started almost directly after the reclaiming and subsequent restoration of Erebor. Over the course of the Quest, Bilbo’s hair had grown longer. He’d proposed cutting it once or twice, but the dwarves had not exactly supported the decision. They weren’t vehement about it, but he also could not secure a knife for the task. 

And it had slipped his mind for a good portion of the Quest, for _obvious_ reasons. He had hardly thought about the state of his hair for more than a moment. The only portion of thought he had given it had been to tie it back in the tiniest tail imaginable while helping with the restoration efforts. Bilbo wouldn’t lie, he had noticed the length of his hair as it continued on without a decent trim. Back in the Shire, it would have earned him a good deal of shaming looks. The only hobbits that wore their hair long were women and possibly children. 

The thing was…

The thing was his lengthening hair also earned him looks about Erebor. Longer hair seemed common among all other races of Middle Earth. Most of the Men he’d met had longer hair than his and all elves seemed to have endless amounts of hair. The same could be said about dwarves, combined with varying lengths of beards. 

His earned looks were not bad or anything like that. Compared to some of the looks he’d been getting before, these were far more approving. Some were a little too approving for his tastes. 

The unfortunate end of growing his hair out was that he had no idea what to do with the sheer amount of it, after so many months. He’d attempted copying the styles of the elves, but his hair curled too much. The Men also did not do much about their hair. 

He’d not even given more than a thought to trying a Dwarfish style. Just looking at some of their hairstyles gave him a headache. It was only Kili’s he could have hopefully copied, but he had no means of holding his hair in place with. All he had managed procuring was a piece of cloth that could be used to pull his hair back and held in place with a simple knot. 

Except it wasn’t always easy to untangle from his hair. 

In any case, most of the time, Bilbo left his hair down. No one said anything. If it became tiresome, he’d pull it up, but that was only ever when he was working. 

Like now, for instance, as he glanced over a tiresome scroll that he had likely been reading the same line of for the past hour. He’d also been constantly tucking hair behind his ear, only for it to somehow escape perhaps a minute later. 

He set the scroll down with a loud noise when the hair slipped into his field of vision again, also startling Thorin in the process. The King glanced questioningly at him as Bilbo searched his pockets for the piece of cloth.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m putting my hair up, it’s driving me crazy,” Bilbo grumbled, though he had had little luck finding the cloth. 

“Let me.”

Thorin had pushed himself up from his desk, a strange look on his face. 

“Oh,” Bilbo paused, frowning at Thorin. “Um..”

“Unless, you think it is-”

“I mean if you want-”

A moment later, Bilbo had moved his belongings about so that Thorin could sit on the other end of the small couch. It felt a little odd to sit there while the dwarf fiddled with his hair. 

“What exactly are you doing?”

No response. 

“Thorin?”

Though the king only made a soft noise in reply, Bilbo could feel his fingers moving more assuredly in his hair. The motion seemed to be repeating, in a particular pattern, though he couldn’t necessarily pinpoint it. 

He only worried for a moment about it, because very soon he could feel that rather than the more distinct, smaller braids many dwarves wore, Thorin was merely braiding all of Bilbo’s hair. 

Another couple of minutes passed and he heard a soft snap before Thorin’s hands left his hair completely. 

“There. Now it will not bother you while you read.”

The dwarf made a move to leave, but Bilbo was quicker. It was pretty easy to slump backwards and keep him from leaving. He felt Thorin’s smile against his temple. 

“I have work.”

“Oh, you do? Here I thought you mustn’t, if you have the time to sit and braid my hair.”

Bilbo felt a sharp tug in reply. 

“Cheeky.”

“You are the one that asked me to help you work through these reports. And I graciously agreed. You could at least thank me.”

His laugh was muffled Thorin’s lips. 


	28. Cuddly Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 2016. Based off an ask sent to me by filinprinsessa on tumblr: Thorin is a cuddly sleeper. Like really cuddly. Like so cuddly he practically has Bilbo in fully body bind. (Bilbo doesn’t mind, it makes him feel safe)

Bilbo stretched out in the large dwarven bed. He felt he could stretch for miles and never find one of the sides. It was a bit silly, how large their beds were. Dwarves were not much larger than hobbits, and hobbits had sensible sized beds. 

“What are you doing?” An amused voice interrupted his squirming about the bed. 

Bilbo yelped. 

“Thorin!” He sat up, staring at his husband. How had he managed sneaking into the bedroom without the hobbit hearing him? The dwarf had not only managed that but he was dressed in nothing but his nightclothes. “What are you doing here?”

“I intended on joining my husband in bed, but if he _objects_ to this…”

“Oh,” Bilbo huffed, smiling despite himself. “Come to bed then. How was the meeting? Balin said…”

“Balin said that he thought it would go on for hours, did he? I have been employing your more clever tactics. I tire of wasting my nights with the council, when I could be here.”

Now, Thorin had come into the bed and settled under the thick blankets. Erebor did grow quite cold and after one too many nights of cold hobbit toes, they had acquired several blankets for the bed. Bilbo had his suspicions, but he always gladly snuggled up against his dwarf, warm and content. 

Tonight was no different. As the king came to rest on his side, the hobbit pressed up against his back. It had taken a couple of months but Bilbo had found a way to spoon his husband without his arm falling asleep. It comforted the both of them greatly, as Bilbo could clearly feel Thorin and the dwarf liked the safety of his back guarded. 

The two talked softly until one of them began drifting asleep. Tonight, it was Bilbo who found himself unable to keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds. 

He found himself stirring in the midst of the night, though. It took him a few blinks before he realized why. There was no presence at his chest as there had been when he’d fallen asleep. However, there was one all about him. 

Bilbo smiled, shifting into a more comfortable position. Sometime during the night, Thorin had done what he always did. His dwarf was far cuddlier than one might think based on his exterior. For right now, Bilbo found himself encased in a full cuddle. Thorin’s arms _and_ legs were wrapped around the smaller being. With a little huffing laugh, the hobbit kissed the nearest limb, which happened to be one of Thorin’s arms. The affection caused the dwarf to only snuggle Bilbo closer, if that were even possible.

He had never told Thorin about this, in fact Bilbo didn’t now if Thorin was aware that he did this. Bilbo was a little afraid his husband might be embarrassed by it. And he didn’t want it to stop. It made the hobbit feel quite safe indeed. 


	29. Wearing Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 2016. Requested by emsiecat; Pretty please could I request ♔ Finding the other wearing their clothes for Bagginshield if you haven't been asked already and are still doing this

Very rarely did Thorin leave Bilbo’s side for too long. He’d grown too accustomed to being near his husband at most times of the day. They did have their separate duties, running a kingdom, but he’d almost always see Bilbo in passing or during mealtimes. Hours were the longest measurement of time that he’d be away from the hobbit. 

Days had not been in the formula before. 

Balin’s plans for the week had separated them from each other from the beginning until almost the end. Thorin had been tasked with visiting Dale, in order to welcome the dwarves visiting from the Iron Hills. His adviser thought it would be a good welcome and assure everyone that their king cared about his people all around. He did, thus it was not a hard task. 

And because of that, Bilbo had been put in place of Thorin within Erebor. That wasn’t an issue either. All the dwarves in the mountain adored Bilbo as much as their king did. Besides that, the hobbit knew what needed to be done. 

The visiting dwarves were to stay in Dale for most of the week and when, finally, Thorin escorted them into the mountain, he had realized how much he missed his small husband. 

There was a long feast before he could disappear from the public. Bilbo hadn’t been at it but that was unsurprising. He did not enjoy the large, public feasts and would not attend if he could avoid it. 

Thorin opens the door to their rooms, immediately dropping his cloak over one of the armchairs warmed by the fireplace. 

Bilbo is not there either, though their rooms are expansive and he could be anywhere within them. Thorin smiles as he pulls off most of his jewelry and then places his crown in its proper place. 

There, now he could seek out his hobbit. 

He finds him in their room, sitting at his desk and writing what is likely a report for Thorin to read over later. He plans to sneak up on him, but what Bilbo wears catches him off guard. 

Long ago, they had commissioned from Dori a dwarven wardrobe for Bilbo. He occasionally wears his hobbit clothes too. But he is wearing neither. Instead, Thorin recognizes the dark blue of one of _his_ shirts. The style is distinctly different from Bilbo’s own clothes, besides the face that it is far too large for him. 

Thorin opens his mouth, making a noise. Bilbo startles, dropping the feather and turning to look at him. 

“Oh! Thorin!” Bilbo blushes a second later when he realizes Thorin’s eyes are on his shirt. “I am.. oh, goodness..”

Somehow, he shakes off the shock and strange feeling of seeing his husband in his shirt. He walks over towards Bilbo quickly, the hobbit looking guilty, but all Thorin can do is kiss him softly. 

When he finally pulls away, Bilbo is breathless and laughing affectionately. 

“I missed you,” explains Bilbo, touching the sleeve of his shirt. 

“As I did you.” The corner of Thorin’s eyes crinkle as he smiles down at Bilbo. “But I suspect my shirt no longer smells of dwarf, but hobbit!” 

The tinkle of Bilbo’s laugh filling their room warms his heart. 


	30. Bathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 2016. Requested by rutobuka on tumblr! Taking a bath together.

“Have you got everything you need?”

Oin looks pointedly at Bilbo, ignoring Thorin’s protests. He’d woken up two hours ago and after a thorough check that things were settled well, the old dwarf had ordered a bath. Except, Thorin could barely move on his own right now. He’d not wanted help taking a bath. 

Bilbo had intervened quickly. Thorin’s blush at the suggestion was tell enough for Oin. He’d left for a few minutes and come back with bathing supplies. What they had, rather, which was soap from the elves. 

Thorin wrinkled his nose at the sight but Bilbo had beamed at the floral scents. 

“Now you won’t stink,” teases Bilbo, throwing Oin a smile in response to his question. 

“I don’t stink.” Thorin protests as Bilbo helps him up out of the bed and towards the bathing room. 

The water has already been filled into the tub. It’s extravagant, in Bilbo’s opinion but he supposes that this is what Kings have. The bath could probably hold several people, though he’s relieved that it’s large enough for the both of them. Thorin looks warily at the tub but he steps in when Bilbo urges. 

“Sit, sit, give me a moment.”

As the dwarf eases into the water, he finds the seat of the tub with a breath of relief. The rest of the tub is quite deep. He wouldn’t be able to stand on his own for long. He is left to his own devices in the tub for a minute. When Bilbo comes back, he has several of the soaps and a comb, as well as a few washcloths. 

Thorin eyes the entire ensemble suspiciously. 

“What are you doing with all that?” 

“You are in serious need of an actual bath,” explains Bilbo, setting everything down on the edge of the tub before tugging his clothes off. 

Thorin averts his eyes, his face turning red. He doesn’t look towards the hobbit until he hears a splash and then feels Bilbo’s hand on his shoulder. 

“I’ll wash your hair first, hm?” 

Bilbo’s hands are soft and careful; the act of washing his hair feels more intimate than it should. Thorin almost falls back to sleep but he is startled by the soft sound of the hobbit’s voice. 

“Thorin?”

“Mm? What.. what is it?” He shakes off the remaining sleepiness. Bilbo smiles softly. 

“You’re not supposed to fall asleep in the bath. Sit up a bit. I’m going to wash the rest of you now.”

He does not feel strange with Bilbo washing his back and the rest of him. His hands work softer around his wound from the battle. Thorin sees his brows knitted together in concern when he winces a little. 

“It’s fine,” Thorin assures before Bilbo can say anything. 

Bilbo snorts. “Sure it is.”

He sits back then, looking Thorin over with a satisfied nod. It smells less like they’re in the bath and more like they’re back in Beorn’s gardens. When he wrinkles his nose, Bilbo rolls his eyes. 

“Should I wash you?” Thorin asks before he can stop his mouth. 

“Oh, ah,” Bilbo says and then smiles, “that’s a nice offer but I don’t want you to strain yourself.”

Thorin still reaches up with a good deal of effort and runs his hand through Bilbo’s locks. It earns him yet another of roll of eyes before Bilbo presses up against his side while washing his own hair. 

It’s memorizing, watching him do so. Thorin settles back against the tub, even happier he woke up from Bilbo’s grieved cries to his relieved ones. 


	31. Wound Healing and Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> February 2016. I decided to put these two together since they are both requested by Jonna.

“You are so reckless,” grumbles Bilbo as he presses an extra shirt over the new wound on Thorin’s shoulder. It’s small and hardly worrisome. 

That doesn’t mean Bilbo didn’t nearly have a fit over it. They’d merely run into a small stray pack of orcs. The hobbit very well could have defended himself. He had not needed the dwarf attempting to defend both of them. The guards had been taken by surprise first, leaving Thorin and Bilbo to themselves for a few minutes. 

In which the dwarf king had valiantly decided to defend the pair. 

One orc had crept in Thorin’s blind spot, and with the king distracted defending Bilbo, his back had been an open target. 

The hobbit had wavered between upset and panic, but eventually settled into upset when Thorin did not fall from the attack. 

Now, he sighs in dismay at the ruin of one of his shirts. They hadn’t packed many medical supplies. This was supposed to be a simple trip to Rivendell. Bilbo notices one of the guards coming toward them and quickly smiles to stave them off. 

“I’ve got it,” he calls, waiting for the dwarf to return to the aid of the others before scowling at Thorin, “absolute idiot.”

“That is rather unkind, he was only offering help-”

“You know I was talking about you.”

Bilbo snaps as he manages to awkwardly wrap the shoulder. Well. That will have to do, he supposes. At least Thorin looks apologetic now. 

“We should turn around.”

“No, Bilbo, you wished to-”

“Thorin,” Bilbo sighs and then softens his tone. “You are hurt. I really would rather Oin look at you before we go any further.”

The dwarf is quiet in front of him with his eyes on the ground under them. Bilbo does not resist the urge to kiss him, his lips lingering on the shirt as he wraps his arms about Thorin. As much as he can, that is. 

“Rivendell is not so far,” Thorin murmurs after a moment, his shoulders relaxing, “I suppose we could turn back around, if it will ease your worries.”

Bilbo rolls his eyes at the back of Thorin’s head. He pushes himself up off his knees, tilting his head over the dwarf’s shoulder. It startles him slightly and as Thorin turns his head in question, the hobbit catches his mouth in a kiss. 

He thinks they probably would have stayed there longer, if it were not for a guard clearing their throat and Bilbo’s weight pressed against Thorin’s shoulder becoming uncomfortable. 

-

Bilbo collapses on the bed, burying his face in one of the many pillows. It muffles the sound of his husband walking about the room. He does not want to be on his feet any longer or out in front of a crowd. Court days are possibly the worst thing invented. 

Thorin agrees, so _why_ they do them baffles Bilbo. 

A hand settles on his back, rubbing soothingly in circles. The hand continues for a good time, until eventually coming into his hair and scratching gently. 

Bilbo turns his head and looks curiously up at Thorin. 

“What is it? I told you I was lying here all night.”

The dwarf only smiles down at Bilbo fondly, sitting at the edge of the bed. 

“I know what you said. I’m sure you’ll call me sappy for this…” He drags his fingers through Bilbo’s hair, tugging gently on his marriage braid when he comes to it. “Dance with me.”

Bilbo raises an eyebrow, before indicating the bed with an exaggerated motion. 

“Come, love,” Thorin laughs and stands back up immediately. “You can stand on my feet, you don’t need to do anything but be in my arms.”

“You’re right,” mumbles Bilbo as he sits up, “you are a ridiculous sap.”

Still, he stands back up. Thorin looks pleased and because of that, the hobbit attempts to ignore the soft ache in his feet. He’ll purposely lean all his weight on the dwarf. Not as if he would notice anyway. 

True to his assumption, once Bilbo has leaned all his weight onto his husband, nothing is said. Thorin only hums softly as he pulls Bilbo into his arms. He looks adoringly down at the hobbit and Bilbo has to suppress a satisfied sigh. 

It does seem silly to be dancing about their room, cuddled together as they are. But no one is watching and he feels no pressure to do anything but smile up at Thorin. 

And if he wants a kiss or two or several from his husband, no one gasps or protests the display of affection. His only response is a smile against his lips and a responding kiss. 

It’s simply perfect and relaxing, Thorin’s soft hum lulling him to sleep. This time, Thorin does notice the sudden shift of Bilbo’s weight into his arms. He is careful as he picks the hobbit up and walks them back to the bed with a smile. 


	32. Sneaking Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> March 2016. Prompted by emsiecat on tumblr; Bagginshield sneaking away from various responsibilities in order to spend time together? Can be any Au you like Erebor consort Bilbo AU, retired in the Shire AU, modern AU, whatever X3

Thorin’s eyes strayed from the delegates and towards the door. It stood rather inviting. He only snapped back to attention at the clearing of Balin’s throat. The older dwarf held his gaze for a moment before nodding towards the dwarf attending the meeting on Dain’s behalf. 

“Your majesty? What do you think?” 

He opened his mouth, though the words were lost long before they’d even graced his tongue. A distinct feel of gentle fingers touching his shoulder startled him greatly. His eyes flicked to his right, where Balin sat. He had no indication that it was Balin, then he felt the touch again. 

Now Balin was glaring at him and the delegate looked worried. 

Thorin stood abruptly. 

“I have forgotten about something I must do.” 

“What?” Balin frowned. “You did not-” 

Though his words fell on deaf ears as Thorin hurried out of the meeting room. He made several turns until he found himself in an empty hall and slowed down. A second later, Bilbo appeared at his side with his hands in his waist coat pockets. 

“What are you doing? You are supposed to be in the library, are you not?” 

It wasn’t a sincere scolding. 

“I wanted to see you.” Bilbo smiled. “Besides, Ori will have not noticed I’m gone quite yet. He was far too immersed in one of the texts we found.”

Thorin felt a brush creep up his neck. 

 

That had only been the beginning. Only once Thorin had sneaked out of a meeting with the elves and surprised Bilbo in the kitchens. After that particular incident, Balin had made sure he couldn’t weasel his way out of most of his meetings. 

The dwarf king found other ways, however, and Bilbo always seemed one step behind him in thinking. 

 

Balin droned on and Thorin desperately wished he were not about to set foot into a long, dreadful meeting with Erebor’s treasures. The only dwarf he could stomach among them was Gloin. His fellow company member held far more knowledge of what Thorin could tolerate during meetings. Sometimes, even better than Balin. 

The more he thought of it, the more his stomach turned. He could not stand sitting for hours listening to the drone of their talk. Once he sat down, though, he would have no escape. 

Balin kept a close eye on him and would not let him leave meetings anymore. 

The idea bubbled into his mind as they turned the corner. As Balin neared the door, he turned for a reminder that Thorin at least try being cordial. But he was met with an empty space where the king had been. 

The king’s adviser sighed in exasperation. 

Dwarves tended to move out of Thorin’s way, especially if he walked quick enough. Thus, by the time Balin had realized his absence, Thorin had made it halfway to his destination. 

For his luck, he ran directly, quite literally, _into_ Bilbo. The hobbit managed keeping them from falling onto Erebor’s floors. He stared at Thorin, flustered. 

“Thorin! What in Eru’s name are you doing?” 

“I came looking for you,” announced Thorin, rather proud of himself. He felt a rush of excitement. Bilbo raised an eyebrow. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with Gloin and the other treasurers?”

“I am.” Thorin nodded, smiling. 

“Hm,” murmured Bilbo, tucking a scroll, which Thorin had not noticed until then, under his arm. “I’m meant to meet Bombur, you know.” 

They held each other’s gaze for a short moment. 

“How well do you remember the layout of Erebor?” Bilbo inquired, turning on his heel. Thorin followed him immediately. 

“Well enough. Why?” 

“I found a little terrace! You did not tell me about it…” As they walked down a much emptier hall, Thorin felt fingers briefly touch his.

His eyes flicked down towards their hands. Bilbo’s hand strayed heistantly towards his again. It made Thorin’s heart flutter nicely and in a moment of bravery, the dwarf reached out and took the hobbit’s hand in his own. 

The tips of Bilbo’s ear turned red almost immediately. 

“I, I am sure that I could fix it up though it is going to take some time,” asserted Bilbo and Thorin felt a gentle squeeze. 

“I have no doubt you will be able to,” Thorin said. “I admit I did not know about the terrace. Nor do I know much about gardening.”

The last bit he meant as a tease, though he felt a harder squeeze on his hand this time. 

“I’m sure I will find use of you there. I simply cannot do this all on my own.” 

Bilbo missed the bright smile stealing its way across Thorin’s face, as he kept his eyes focused determinedly on the hall before them. 


	33. Summer Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> March 2016. Prompted by Jonna; i was gonna ask some arranged marriage au stuff but thats all i ever ask soo how about shire au where they just enjoy a nice summer day together?

Thorin had rarely experience such heat in his life. When they were on the road, before they’d settled in Ered Luin, summers didn’t treat them nicely. They had little cover from the sun and dwarves were simply not made for the heat of the sun. The heat of the forge? Certainly. 

Not entire hours of sweating under a hot summer sun. 

The only downfall to the Shire, Thorin concluded as he hid in the shade of the oak tree over Bag End, were its summers. 

He’d seen Bilbo dressed down before, of course he had, but this was an entirely different experience. The hobbit had his shirtsleeves rolled up and even his trousers were rolled up higher. He had no waistcoat or coat, no scarf and he also wore a sunhat. It was rather silly-looking, which was the main reason Thorin had refused one this morning. 

Bilbo looked completely content under the shade it provided his face. 

“Are you hiding up here all day?” 

“Yes,” grumbled Thorin, staring Bilbo down. The hobbit stood in his garden, looking quite amused. “It’s awful. How do you stand this?” 

“It’s summer.” 

“This is _not_ summer.” 

“Oh, you’re acting like a fauntling!” Bilbo laughed, disappearing from the garden. A moment later he reappeared climbing up the back of the Hill. “Come back inside, Bag End is cooler than this shade.” 

It took more prodding before Thorin would leave the safety of the tree’s shade. Luckily for him, Bag End was not far away and the cool respite of the hobbit hole filled him with relief. 

“Why did we not stay here?” Thorin recalled the rather unpleasant trip to the market that morning. All the hobbits had been dressed down as Bilbo was. He’d regretted his normal clothing immediately. 

“I wanted fresh food for luncheon, you remember…”

The dwarf turned around but there was no sign of his smaller husband. Bag End was rather large and Thorin found himself lost on occasion. He stood still until Bilbo came back down the hall. He had a wet washcloth in his hand. 

“Here,” he said and pressed the washcloth over Thorin’s forehead. It felt like heaven. 

Bilbo watched him in amusement. 

“I suppose we’re not cuddling,” mused Bilbo and Thorin wrinkled his nose at the notion. “Oh, I know!” 

He ran off again before Thorin could stop him. Standing still in Bag End’s hall, he held the washcloth to his forehead. It felt like a long time before Bilbo came back and grabbed his hand, dragging him to the bathroom. 

“Let’s take a bath.”

“A bath?” Thorin frowned. The thought of hot bath water did not sound agreeable. 

Bilbo must have noticed his uneasiness and shook his head, gesturing for Thorin to touch the water. When he did, he found it cold rather than warm. The idea was strange but glancing at Bilbo, Thorin found he couldn’t say no. Mere moments later he found himself in naught but his underclothes and stepping into the tub. 

And he was left there for another few minutes until Bilbo came back with a pitcher of lemonade and a book, joining him in the tub. 


	34. Better Late than Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 2016. Written for the Bagginshield Anniversary. Mostly canon compliant.

How many years had it been?

Bilbo could hardly remember. Over the years, certain memories had faded. He could clearly remember every moment of the Quest, however. Those were the ones that stuck, from the moment Gandalf had come by in the morning and all the way until he had come back to the auction at his house. And everything in between.

He found his hands were shaking. There were papers strewn across the desk, his desk, and a quill in his hand. Bilbo frowned at the mess in front of him. He’d been writing something, though he had no idea what. As he looked over the page, he noticed that a drop of ink had dried onto the page. It had ruined the last word written, _Thorin_.

With a swallow, he set down the quill and dropped his face into his hands. Anything that reminded him of the dwarf upset him. He dared not continue his account of the quest for the moment.

He found the portrait of himself and stared wistfully at it for a moment. Lost in the image, he did not hear the soft sound of his nephew’s feet across the study.

“What’s that?”

Frodo startled him and Bilbo quickly shoved the portrait into the book, snapping it closed and then glaring at the younger hobbit. “None of your business!”

A chuckle rose from lad. Bilbo avoided looking at his eyes. They were too blue. Instead, he focused on the stack of mail in his hands.

“What are those?”

“Party invinations!” Frodo grinned.

“Oh,” Bilbo sat up straighter, his eyes lighting up. “Is it today?”

“Hm,” replied Frodo as he ducked down into the glorybox, “they’re all coming. Except the Sackville-Baggins.”

“Oh, they’ll be there anyway, I assure you,” grumbled Bilbo. “We should hide the spoons.”

“The _spoons_?”

As Bilbo stood, there came a knock at the door. He looked at Frodo with a frown.

“Did you invite someone over?”

“No.”

Bilbo huffed in irritation, stomping over towards the door as another knock came. Frodo followed uneasily.

“I’ll have you know,” he grumbled as he began opening the door, “that the sign outside is not a suggestion, it is a firm-”

Bilbo’s words died on his tongue. His heart pounded hard. He could hear Frodo asking him if he was alright but all he could do was stare up into blue eyes. Blue eyes that he had never forgotten, not in all the years he couldn’t remember.

He was glad for the door and that he hadn’t let go of it yet. It supported as he felt his legs nearly give out.

Thorin Oakenshield stood on the other side of his door.

“Bilbo,” Thorin started and then cleared his throat, “I know I am far too early for tea, and I know I am far too late.”

“Thorin,” he choked out.

Before he could stop himself, Bilbo stumbled forward into the dwarf’s arms. It had been a dream he had had so many times over the years and the solid feeling of Thorin’s arms calmed something deep in him.

He shook slightly as Thorin brushed his fingers over his shoulder, murmuring so softly that his words were undecipherable. “Am I allowed to come inside? You should probably know that Dwalin and Bofur are here as well.”

“Oh, please,” gasped Bilbo, somehow maneuvering them inside. Frodo smiled awkwardly as Thorin looked at him. “Where are they?”

“They’ll be by later, don’t worry,” Thorin said softly before looking at Frodo again.

“Oh, goodness, I’m sorry. This is Frodo, my nephew, it’s his birthday too,” Bilbo smiled while Frodo said hello.

Later that night, after Bilbo’s grand disappearance from the party, Frodo watched as his uncle left Bag End hand in hand with Thorin and the two other dwarves following them down the path.


	35. First Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> April 2016. emsiecat prompted: “Otherwise how about Thorin and Bilbo bed sharing for the first time (can be as innocent or not as you like) and their thoughts and reactions on said bed sharing” and welllllll it got a little out of hand but i still hope she enjoys it~

The door shut much louder than Bilbo anticipated and he winced slightly. They were practically just large, carved stone slabs. He felt a little sad for the soft, wooden doors of Bag End. It would be unlikely that he ever saw them again, or at least not for a long time. He traced his fingers over the _Cirth_ , smiling fondly even if he could not read the particular letters himself.

The royal bedroom was magnificent. Tonight was the first time he had stepped foot into the actual bedroom. He had been in the sitting room, Thorin’s study, and various other rooms of the King’s Suite but never the bedroom (it was not allowed, apparently).

Though the walls of the other rooms were smooth stone, the bedroom’s were carved. Gentle candlelight let him follow the images as they curved around the walls. He did not know the story behind the carvings, though they seemed to follow the same dwarf, or similar dwarves, through many years.

“It is Durin the Deathless,” said Thorin, startling Bilbo as he came out of the bathroom. _That door_ , Bilbo thought, _had been hidden_. “These were carved when Thráin I founded the Kingdom of Erebor. He did all of these through his father, Náin I, you see?”

Bilbo watched as Thorin reverently touched the carvings.

“Thorin I continued his father’s legacy by carving him here,” he indicated, “but he left Erebor shortly after he became King of Durin’s Folk. All of these carvings were done by my grandfather, when he took back to this Kingdom. Thorin I’s son, Glóin, and no not our friend, he is carved there… here you can see his son Óin’s carvings.”

“You repeat names quite a lot, don’t you?”

Bilbo felt amusement as Thorin scoffed. “It is a great honor to be named after a preceding ancestor. Thorin I was six times my great-grandfather. If you would let me continue?”

“Very well.”

“Óin’s son, Náin II came next. He is the one who connects my line with many of our company. This is Dáin I, here,” Thorin indicated a dwarf facing off a dragon, “and one of his sons.”

Thorin went quiet, gazing at the last image. The last dwarf carved looked rather magnificent, though he was dressed rather shockingly like Thorin had been during his sickness. The dwarf held the Arkenstone in his hands. That was unmistakable. So was the tremble in Thorin’s fingers.

“I will carve my father here,” he said, his voice thick. He placed his hand flat against the uncarved rock next to Thror. “Then, Fíli will carve me.”

Bilbo watched as Thorin stared hard at the empty wall. He could have been simply thinking of how to immortalize his father, but Bilbo knew his newlywed husband too well.

“Let’s go to bed.”

With careful hands, he slid them onto Thorin’s shoulders. It was too easy to lead Thorin away from the wall and over to the bed – their bed.

The dwarf’s hair stuck wetly to his neck and back, leaving Bilbo huffing at him. His hair was completely unbraided, a novelty Bilbo had never seen before. He had dressed in a simple tunic and soft pants, his feet completely bared. He thought they were rather adorably small but saying so would possibly upset Thorin.

He didn’t want Thorin to feel inadequate about his feet.

Bilbo wore his dressing gown and his nightshirt only. He felt his stomach flutter as Thorin sat himself down on the bed. He watched as the dwarf moved his hair over his shoulder and Bilbo tracked a drop of water down his back.

“Let me?”

Thorin hummed in reply, his shoulders relaxing as Bilbo quickly braided his hair. Though the dwarf’s hair was different from a hobbit’s, he found it as easy. He loved the feel of Thorin’s hair under his hands. It seemed best for sleep to be accompanied by one, large braid instead of the small braids that Thorin normally wore.

Bilbo chewed on his lip before guiding Thorin into laying down. Thorin rolled onto his back and then onto his other side, looking at him.

“Well,” Bilbo said, “this is exciting.”

Thorin chuckled softly, moving until he had wedged one arm under Bilbo. It pulled them closer, chest to chest and Bilbo smiled.

“I have waited a good while to share my bed with you, Bilbo.”

Bilbo clucked his tongue and shoved playfully at Thorin. It hardly moved him, but Thorin’s face creased in a lovely way as he smiled.

“Oh stop that!”

“Were I not a king, I think I should have taken you to bed before now,” continued Thorin, sliding his other hand over Bilbo’s hip. “Perhaps even the first night we met.”

“Thorin!” Bilbo laughed out, hiding his face in the dwarf’s chest. “You are _terrible_.”

“Would you have denied me?”

“Oh, eru, do not ask me such a thing. We were supposed to be going to sleep, you ridiculous dwarf. We have a busy morning!”

He ended the sentence shouting, for Thorin had shifted his head and placed a whiskery kiss to Bilbo’s neck. He laughed as Thorin purposefully rubbed his beard against his neck. It had grown out in the year they had been residing in Erebor. Though it would take time for it to be as grand as others, it was no longer as short as it had been when they met.

“Sleep, you silly thing,” scolded Bilbo, a little breathless. As much as he desired it, the sensible action here was to avoid any other activities one sought in bed.

Thorin huffed against the skin of Bilbo’s neck but he did pull back and hold Bilbo once again to his chest.

“Is this how you want to sleep?”

“It’s alright.”

Though truth be told, he did not think it was a position that would hold for very long in sleep. The bed was quite large and though Bilbo did not think himself a fitful sleeper, and neither was Thorin, he thought they might end up strewn across the bed still.

Thorin lay quiet for a while. He had never imagined himself to share his bed in such a way. All his years he had been fine by himself. Then he had met Bilbo. He had, truthfully, desired to share his bed in any way with the hobbit since the very beginning. He could not describe why.

Bilbo shifted in his arms, laying his head to Thorin’s chest as he closed his eyes.

Despite not being on the road, the dwarf felt a certain vulnerability. When he slept on his own, he always lay on his back. It was not to be exposed, when he could not protect it. He desired, too, to protect Bilbo’s back even within their safe room.

“Bilbo,” he said softly into the quiet air.

“Mm,” was his reply.

“Would you mind sleeping against my back?”

Bilbo stirred back into awareness and blinked at Thorin. It seemed an odd request but he nodded after a moment. He watched as the dwarf rolled onto his side, away from Bilbo. His front faced the doors with his back opened up to Bilbo. After an awkward moment, Bilbo pressed up against his back and then pressed a light kiss to the nape of his neck.

Thorin sighed, a great sound of relief in the midst of the otherwise quiet room. Everything felt quite right like this.


	36. A Puppy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2016. Prompt from lesbiankiliel: "for the writing prompt meme: Bagginshield + 129. “We should get a puppy!” if you're still taking prompts^^ (i found a few more oneshots that weren't on here)

They’re on the couch, legs intertwined, and Bilbo’s head pillowed on Thorin’s shoulder. Thorin’s lips are pressed against the skin where his neck and shoulder connect. The kisses were merely teasing, as they’re both too drunk to get more involved. 

Bilbo reached up, his hand cupping the sharp curve of Thorin’s jaw. 

Suddenly, Thorin stopped pressing teasing kisses to his skin. Bilbo hummed halfheartedly, his eyes fluttering openly in curiosity. Thorin’s lips were pressed warm to his skin still, but in a seemingly thoughtful manner. 

“What is it?” His words slurred together. 

Thorin stayed quiet for a moment before sitting up quickly, displacing Bilbo. He spluttered, frowning up at Thorin. 

“We should get a puppy!” 

“A.. what?” 

“A puppy. We should get one.” 

“Thorin, we’re.. we are so drunk,” gasped Bilbo in laughter, pushing himself up into a sitting position. 

“I’m writing this down,” said Thorin, looking around for his phone, “it’s a good idea.”

Bilbo laughed again, watching as Thorin found his phone and struggled opening it. He managed after a few tries, grinning at his phone as he opened up an app. 

“Sober Thorin,” he read out loud as he typed, “buy a puppy with Bilbo.”

Bilbo smiled fondly as he dropped the phone, turning to kiss him softly but it was far more sloppy than anything else. He smiled into the kiss. He could worry about the seriousness of buying a puppy with his boyfriend in the morning. 


	37. Pajama Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2016. Emsiecat prompted: "For the prompt meme! Bagginshield and 88 “I vote today to be a pajama day."'

The smell of coffee in the air stirred Bilbo awake. He stared sleepily at the alarm clock before smiling and stretching out on the bed. Thorin’s bed was far more luxurious than his. He kicked the covers off and rolled up out of the bed. The bedroom was a mess, though, and he gathered up the sheet around his waist. 

Thorin’s apartment was more like a penthouse, even though he protested that fact. The hall that the bedroom opened out into led down to the kitchen, though there were a couple doors along the wall. One had to lead to a bathroom, at least. The smell of the coffee distracted him and Bilbo found himself walking into the kitchen. 

There, standing at the counter, Thorin had a coffee cup to his lips. He was dressed smartly in a suit, his hair slicked back. 

Bilbo moved up behind him, wrapping his arms around Thorin’s middle. He laid his cheek against his back. 

“I vote today to be a pajama day.”

Thorin made a soft noise in response, reaching up to squeeze one of Bilbo’s hand. He looked over his shoulders with a slight smile. “I have work today.”

“Mm, you shouldn’t have invited me to stay the night then.” 

He drifted his hands downwards, grinning until Thorin stopped his hands with one of his. 

“Maybe another day,” Thorin said softly, “or..”

“Or..?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow. 

Thorin lifted the coffee cup to his mouth again, taking a drink before setting it down and turning around in Bilbo’s arms. His eyes took in his appearance, his ruffled hair and the sheet. His eyes locked on Bilbo’s for a moment and Bilbo could see the spark of desire. 

“Or, you could stay here and I could come back a little early this afternoon.”

Bilbo licked his lips. “That sounds like a very nice idea.”

Thorin cupped the back of Bilbo’s head, pulling him closer until their lips brushed together. He kissed Bilbo gently. His fingers threaded into Bilbo’s mussed hair and Bilbo moaned a little, dropping his hands from the holding the sheet to cup Thorin’s face. 

A few minutes passed before Thorin ended the kiss, his eyes searching Bilbo’s for a quiet moment. They stood in a comfortable silence before Thorin’s eyes drifted down. His cheeks darkened then he cleared his throat. 

“Work, I need to go to work. I.. I’ll see you later?” 

“Mm..” Bilbo grinned, straightening Thorin’s tie, “yes you will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i went in search for this one tbh, its one of my favorites


	38. Your Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2016. bagginshieldisreal prompted: "oh my god “It’s your fault we’re in this mess.” for bagginshield pls"

“It’s your fault we’re in this mess,” grumbled Bilbo as he struggled under the heavy weight on his chest. 

“Oh, it’s my fault is it?” Thorin snorted. “Am I the one who wanted to go on an adventure?” 

Bilbo glared at him. The effect of it was ruined, however, as a high giggle came from one of the faunts seated on Bilbo’s chest. A second passed as they stared at each other before the hobbit’s serious expression turned into an amused one. He chuckled softly. 

Above him, Frodo let out a protest. “Quiet burglar! We captured you and the king!”

Thorin chuckled too, hiding his laugh in his hand when one of the other faunts pouted. 

“Uncle! No laughing, this is serious.”

“Okay, okay,” Thoin said seriously, schooling his face back into a more serious expression. 

He met Bilbo’s eye, smiling slightly as he played along with the faunts’ game.

“Your fault completely,” continued Bilbo, smiling just slightly, “if we hadn’t been lost.. which was definitely _your_ fault.” 


	39. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: For fluffy Bagginshield prompts: I would love to see Thorin or Bilbo finally feeling better after a cold/flu bug - this could involve getting their appetite back, so of course the other has to cook lots of delicious food, enjoying the return of their sense of smell after a blocked nose, and wanting to cuddle again after they exiled themselves, not wanting to pass on their cold germs! Also I share your concern about recent things in the tag, but appreciate your response to it! :) <3

Thorin rose from the bed in Bag End’s best guest room after a three-day self-imposed exile.

He’d caught himself a terrible head cold that had morphed into a worse cold in the matter of a day. The dwarf had been more concerned for his husband’s health than his own. After all, dwarrow were hardy folk and they could easily beat a cold. But if he was debilitated by a cold, it had to be far worse than the usual sicknesses in the Shire. Thorin hadn’t dared to let Bilbo catch it too.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Bilbo had called after him, as he locked himself into the guest room.

The dwarf had been too tired to retort at the time. He wasn’t being ridiculous. Still, Bilbo would slip him notes along with trays with broths and mugs of water left outside the door.

He stifles a yawn as he opens the door. There’s no tray waiting at his feet. It must be too early for Bilbo to have woken.

Thorin steps as quietly as he can down the hall. Luckily, the best guest room is next door to their master bedroom. The door is shut as usual when they are asleep. He pushes it open, thankful that he’d recently oiled the hinges. It doesn’t creak. He pauses in the doorway, smiling fondly.

Bilbo is sprawled across the bed, atypical of his usual sleeping position. Thorin supposes he might have been taking advantage of the freed space in the bed during the few nights they were apart. His nightshirt is rucked up, revealing his sun-touched skin.

The overwhelming desire to have his husband in his arms, to kiss him and hold him, does not come as much as a surprise. Despite what many think of him, Thorin considers himself a social creature. The days spent locked away in a room by himself had been terrible, sickness besides. He’d missed Bilbo dearly, even with the reminder by notes and food. There had also been a lack of socializing at the market, with the Gamgees, and the various fauntlings that had adopted Thorin as a sort of strange dwarven uncle.

His mind dictated Bilbo as priority, however. It has been too long since he had last touched his hobbit, much less seen him.

Thorin slips quietly into the bed, prodding Bilbo’s side gently. There wasn’t much room for him at the moment. Bilbo snuffles and stirs the tiniest bit.

“Thorin..?”

“Good morning,” Thorin says softly, smiling as Bilbo wiggles over to accommodate him. He buries his face in Bilbo’s hair, breathing in. His husband smells distinctly of lavender, the result of a recent bath. The dwarf has missed this.

Bilbo wraps an arm around him, his other pinned somewhere beneath them. “Guess you’re over your cold, hm?”

There’s a fraction of teasing in Bilbo’s voice, which Thorin decides to ignore as he kisses his husband’s soft curls. Soft hands pet his hair in return but they pause and he hears a noise of disapproval.

“Someone needs a wash.”

“Later,” grumbles Thorin, not desiring to leave Bilbo’s embrace now. He delights as the soft half-laugh half-huff Bilbo exhales.

“What if we have those raspberry tarts for breakfast that you like so much? I have a batch at the ready.” Bilbo pinches Thorin’s side gently. “You can wash all this sweat off and I will put breakfast together. Hm?”

Thorin stays quiet for a moment, contemplating.

It’s unlikely that Bilbo will have them do anything else for the rest of the day. Washing up early in the day might be more desirable and it seems to be what Bilbo wants, too. Plus, the temptation of the tarts is too much. He hasn’t had any solid food in days.

Thorin peels away from Bilbo with a grunt of affirmation.

“I’ll braid your hair for you, darling,” says Bilbo as he pulls on his robe, as Thorin shuffles out of the room and to the bathroom. He smiles, very glad that his dreadful cold has passed.


	40. Fake Dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bagginshieldisreal asked: how about fake dating (or secret dating!)

“Like this?” 

Thorin sighed through his teeth and let go of Bilbo’s hand. He rubbed his hand against his thigh, watching as Dis leaned over the table and showed Bilbo a video on her phone. Bilbo’s soft chuckle struck directly at his core. 

He had no idea how he was going to keep this up. The pressure from his family (mainly his sister and brother) to have someone at his side during the holidays had become an annoyance. It would have been an easier lie, had he chosen someone he wasn’t stupidly in love with. 

Another laugh from Bilbo, but this one sent him laughing against Thorin. He pushed his face into the man’s shoulder, stifling his laugh. His hand came up, gripping Thorin’s arm for support as his laughter began to cease. There was a soft  _sorry_  among his small laughs. Thorin heard his sister say something but it was lost in the next moment. 

Bilbo must have intended a light peck to his cheek, something small and that they had agreed on. 

Only, Thorin turned towards Bilbo and their lips met suddenly. 

Thorin didn’t pull away, frozen. Bilbo, though, managed much better on his part. Only a second passed before he pursued the kiss as if it were not an accident. He parted with a gentle  _smack!_ and left Thorin dazed. 

“Well!” Bilbo exclaimed, before escaping off to the bathroom. 

Leaving Thorin at the mercy of his grinning family. 


	41. Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: prompt: tears of saddness/tears of joy/tears of laughter

Thorin feels the warms tears sliding down his cheeks in confusion. He doesn’t think he is crying. At least, he wasn’t crying last he knew. He has to rouse himself from the fog and the ache in his chest flairs up. 

He can’t quite remember what or where or why. 

His attempt at moving takes more effort and energy than he expects it to. There is a soft sound, up and to his right side. 

The sound grows louder and he focuses on it, trying to find the source. It takes a great effort for him to open his eyes. The world is dim, but it is there. Thorin cannot place where he is but he knows he is not the one crying. 

He knows, because Bilbo is bent over him and his body is wracked with sobs. The sound he makes is not soft at all. 

There is no one but them. 

Thorin manages reaching up, his fingers barely brushing against Bilbo’s wet cheek. A soft gasps breaks the sobs and he looks towards Thorin’s face.

“Thorin…?”

One of Bilbo’s hands catches his trembling hand, the other coming to rest on his chest. 

 Thorin wishes to say something, anything, but he can only make a soft sound. 

And there are fresh tears running down Bilbo’s cheek, dribbling down against Thorin’s as he presses their foreheads together. Bilbo sniffles, his hand squeezing the dwarf’s periodically as his shoulders shake. 

“You’re alive,” Bilbo says, simply. his voice wet but with wonder too. Thorin nods, the brief memory of eagles and the cold snow on his back swarming back into his mind. 

Very suddenly, he feels pain blooming in his shoulder. Bilbo rests his fist against the shoulder. 

“You idiot! What were you thinking, facing off alone against Azog like that!? Dwalin and I were right behind you, if you had only waited!” Bilbo shouts, angrily, though his face betrays his relief. He smacks Thorin again lightly. “Do you have rocks in your head?”  

“Ow,” Thorin’s voice cracks as he speaks in reply, dry, but Bilbo’s response is a snorting laugh. A fresh set of tears accompanies his laugh as he buries his face in the dwarf’s chest. His shoulders shake as he laughs and cries, and Thorin’s comfort comes in the form of his hands clasping the dwarf’s softly. 


	42. After the Barrels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> emsiecat asked: Started thinking about all those deleted and implied Bagginshield scenes and now can't stop. For a lil prompt then, what about your take on that scene where Thorin is frantically trying to find Bilbo when they get to the shore in the barrels and what happens after that?

When they clear the river rapids, and there are no signs of elves or orcs along the bank, Thorin signals the rest of the company towards the shore. Several of them spill out of the barrels as soon as they can, none too eager to stay in the water longer than necessary. 

Dwarves sink like stones. 

Luckily, the water isn’t terribly deep and they can wade over the shore. Thorin scans the company. The rush of the escape from the elves and orcs had meant he hadn’t been able to keep an eye on everyone. 

His nephews are helping each other onto the shore, Dori and Dwalin are practically dragging Ori from the water and… 

Panic seizes in Thorin’s chest. He spins around in the water. 

Where is Bilbo? 

He’d been clinging to a barrel the last time Thorin had seen him. He hadn’t been in a barrel like the rest. He’s desperate as he stumbles through the water and shouts for Bilbo. 

What if he’s been swept away or Thorin is too late? Or if he’d been caught up in the fight? 

His worry is alleviated when he finds Bilbo struggling in the water, not too far from them. He scoops the hobbit up out of the water. 

Bilbo yelps and nearly kicks him. 

“Thorin!” He says, relief in his voice. 

Thorin pulls Bilbo against his chest, holding him tightly. There is no sense in questioning the relief in his chest, far stronger than seeing his own nephews safe upon the shore. He knows it. 

Bilb pats a hand awkwardly against his chest. 

“Ah, um,” Bilbo says into Thorin’s chest, “we should get back to the others?” 

“Aye,” Thorin agrees and turns around, wading back down the river. It is calm enough that he can easily make their way back. 

Bilbo clears his throat. “Please, put me down, Thorin. I am not a faunt.” 

Thorin struggles with the idea of putting Bilbo back into the water but he relents. Bilbo is no child, after all.. 

With Bilbo on his feet, though he himself looks conflicted by the river, they wade back towards the shore first. From here, Thorin can see the company as they try drying off their waterlogged person. 

Bilbo grimaces and then sneezes. Several times. 

Thorin rests his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder as they approach the company. 

“Do you wish for your handkerchief, Master Baggins?” 

Bilbo glares at him, but there’s a hint of a smile playing on his face. 

 

 


	43. Hair braiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> plotweaver asked: Still taking prompts? If so, how 'bout some hair braiding?

Bilbo slides his fingers through Thorin’s hair, marveling at the silky, smooth texture of it. It had been ages since either of them had had a proper washing but their arrival in Bag End had been quickly followed by Bilbo’s insistence of a long bath. 

Thorin sighs, the stress leaking out of him as Bilbo massages his scalp lightly. 

Bag End is yet bare, a few recovered pieces of furniture littering the room. It will probably take weeks before Bag End’s contents are back in place. 

For now, Bilbo desires nothing but a warm bed and a hot meal. 

He drags his fingers back up, combing out any knots remaining in Thorin’s hair. Then he begins braiding one of the thin braids that frames Thorin’s face. It is not yet a strong suite of his but Bilbo has spent at least one journey learning how to do this. 

By the time he finishes the second braid, the dwarf’s breathing has evened out more. He might be asleep. Bilbo pauses, settling the braid in place. He lets his hands stray and trace the scar on Thorin’s brow. It is not as angry as before, but he does not think it will disappear. 

It’s a bitter reminder. 

Bilbo sighs softly and runs his fingers through the rest of Thorin’s hair again. His fingers are not deft but he begins braiding the rest. A fond smile creeps onto his face as Thorin snores. 

The marriage braid in his hair knocks against his cheek as he tilts his head to the side. 


	44. Anniversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: if you're still doing prompts (love all you've written btw) maybe bagginshield + first year anniversary of the battle of five armies?

Bilbo wakes. Bilbo wakes and he feels the day settle over him before he even sits up. 

The spot next to him is cold and empty. The furs are thrown messily across the bed, some of them half of the bed. Bilbo rubs at his eyes, then rises from the bed quietly. He isn’t sure of the time but it is likely before breakfast. 

He’d been trying to prepare for today. The mountain had grown solemn in the last week. 

Thorin had been solemn. 

After dressing, he checks several places he thinks he might find the king. He is not in the throne room. He is not in the treasure vault (although Bilbo does not truly expect he would be there, anyway). He was not in their rooms. Eventually, Bilbo chances the forge. 

Thorin is there, alone, working alone, and working as though his very life depends on it. 

Bilbo waits until Thorin pauses and then clears his throat. 

The dwarf looks up, then immediately avoids Bilbo’s eyes. “Bilbo. What are you doing here?”

“Well, as my husband was not in bed to keep me warm, I woke.”

Thorin looks anguished, which Bilbo finds ridiculous. “I am sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Bilbo says softly, then comes to his side. “What are you crafting?” 

Bilbo notes Thorin avoids their arms touching. “I know it will never make up for any of what I have done, but I hope that you might one day forgive me for my actions on this day…”

The hobbit looks up, then reaches out and places a firm hand on the dwarf’s arm. Thorin looks miserable. 

“I do not deserve you,” Thorin says. 

“We have been over this,” Bilbo says, his voice quiet. “Thorin, you were not yourself. It is clear to me as it ever was, and you have never done any other harmful actions to me. I trust you dearly. You need not make me gifts in seeking forgiveness. You already have that.” 

Thorin presses his forehead against Bilbo’s gently. “My love,” he says softly. “Then you must forgive me for how I am acting today.”

“Again,” Bilbo says, smiling, “there is nothing for you to apologize for. Come back to bed and put this behind us. You do not have anything that must be done today. Let us relax.” 


	45. Baking an Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: Thorin trying his hand at baking some cake- as an apology to Bilbo for something he did :p

The kitchens in Erebor were almost always busy. 

Thorin had been more than happy when he could provide Bilbo with a private kitchen within their rooms.

And as he stood in said kitchen, staring down the ingredients on the counter, he was thankful for the privacy it provided. He wasn’t as thankful that he did not have a plethora of chefs for help but… 

The dwarf sighed into his hands. 

Despite being married, the two had not bridged the difference between their cultures. Two days ago, Thorin had misstepped. 

Or at least, Bilbo thought he did. 

They’d recently established birthday celebrations being different between hobbits and dwarrow, but Thorin had insisted on celebrating Bilbo’s birthday as a dwarf would. 

Bilbo had agreed reluctantly, though he had expressed interest in their differences of celebration. 

He had ran out of their dinner, though, when the dinner had been served by Bombur. It had taken hours for Thorin to discover what exactly had upset Bilbo. 

Thus, Thorin resolutely took to trying to right his mistake. It seemed that in hobbit culture, intimate meals like their dinners were to be made by their hands alone. 

Thorin hoped the cake would mend the problem. 

A few hours later, when Bilbo was due back, Thorin found himself staring down a cake that did not look like it was to be eaten. He thought of throwing it out but as his eyes moved from the cake to the disposal, the door into their rooms opened. 

He listened nervously as Bilbo moved through their rooms. In a few minutes, he arrived in the kitchen. 

“Thorin? What…?” Bilbo eyed the cake then looked back at Thorin. “What is that?”

Thorin felt his face heat. “It is.. an apology. For your name day.”

“Oh!” Bilbo smiled, walking over and inspecting the cake before taking Thorin’s hand in his. “Thank you, dear.”

“I know it is terrible,” Thorin mumbled. 

Bilbo chuckled. “That’s hardly the point. But I think when we have dinner alone, I shall be the one to make our meals.”

“I believe that is fair,” Thorin said, kissing Bilbo lightly. 


	46. Rainstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thepansexual-pagan asked: Hi there! If you're still doing prompts, maybe being caught in a rainstorm? Thank you!

Bilbo shivers, attempting to shield himself from the rain. It does little but cause more rain to splash upon him. They’re riding along, despite the rain. He thought they might stop but apparently dwarrow do not mind being wet like hobbits do. 

He thinks of saying something about it to Thorin, who is pushing them to go more than Bilbo thinks is necessary. 

Certainly, they could find a comfortable spot hidden under a few trees. At least until the storm passes. Dale isn’t too far away that they would be worried about travel time. 

The storms grows worse in a matter of seconds. 

Bilbo’s idea of the trees granting them shelter turns out to be less than ideal. Thorin grimaces next to him. 

“I did not think it would be this bad,” he says, looking towards Bilbo in apology. 

Bilbo is soaking wet, but he gives the dwarf a smile. “It’ll be fine.” He ends that with a sneeze. 

Which is followed by Thorin’s coat draped around his shoulders, the warmth immediately seeping into Bilbo’s being. He glances back up at the dwarf. 

“I do not think you want another cold,” Thorin says, stepping closer to Bilbo in the moderate safety of the trees. 

Thorin’s proximity warms him even more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments, so please do leave a comment if you like any of these oneshots! You can also reach out to me on tumblr, @lovelylilpup.


	47. Wellness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHIPSICLE SAID: If you're still doing prompts: wellness day. Complete with facial mask, massage, sauna, what have you :D

“Long day?” 

Thorin nodded, slumped over the side of the bed. He’d been home for a total of ten minutes. A gentle touch started at the base of his neck and trailed down his back. Bilbo’s other hand petted his hair. Thorin sighed, closing his eyes as Bilbo undid the tight bun he kept his hair in. The hobbit’s fingers untangled and combed through the waves of his hair. Soon, the dwarf lulled off. 

He startled awake at a shake to his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” Thorin said and sat up, rubbing at his eyes. 

“You’re fine,” Bilbo said. He stood over Thorin, in his bath robe. Thorin thought he hadn’t been wearing that when he’d arrived home but his thoughts were muddled. “Off with your shirt!” 

Thorin raised his eyebrows. “Bilbo-”

Bilbo made a face. “Not for that, come on.” He reached forward and began unbuttoning Thorin’s shirt. The dwarf let him, yawning into his hand and then helping Bilbo with the rest of his shirt. The hobbit knelt on the bed and put himself to the task of massaging the tension out of his shoulders. 

It was unfair how good Bilbo was with his hands. Thorin melted against him, groaning quietly. 

Bilbo chuckled and stopped, kissing Thorin’s shoulder. He gathered Thorin’s hair up and put it into a messy bun. 

“Up!” Bilbo jumped up from the bed, pulling Thorin up with him. 

“Mm,” Thorin grumbled but followed Bilbo. “I would rather stay in bed.” 

“Later,” Bilbo said, taking Thorin’s hand and leading him into the bathroom. 

Which was decked out in candles, the bath already drawn and a soft, comforting fragrance greeted him. 

“When did you do this?” 

“You weren’t asleep too long, but you did fall asleep,” said Bilbo, gesturing him towards the bath. “So I took the opportunity. Go ahead into the bath, I’ll join you in a moment.” 

Thorin followed Bilbo’s suggestion, shedding the rest of his clothes and sinking happily into the warm water. By the Maker, he was a lucky dwarf. 

Bilbo returned, only making a small splash as he slipped into the water. Thorin had closed his eyes but he startled when something cold touched his face. 

“What are you doing?” Thorin frowned, staring Bilbo in the face while the hobbit dabbed something onto his face. He did avoid Thorin’s beard but otherwise he intently spread it on the dwarf’s face. 

“It’s a facial mask, Thorin. You’ve seen me use them,” Bilbo said, sitting back in the bath and then applying it to his face. “It’s nice and you’ll feel much better.” 

“Mm, if you say so,” Thorin murmured, closing his eyes again and relishing in the warm water and the hobbit’s form pressed against his. 


	48. Frodo and Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RHAPSODIC-BLUE SAID: Prompt: thorin meeting frodo

Thorin paced back and forth, back and forth in Bag End’s parlor. From where Bilbo stood, checking over his pack, he sighed. 

“Thorin,” Bilbo said, turning towards him. “Please calm down.” 

“What if he does not like me?” 

“I do not think that is going to be a problem,” he said, taking Thorin’s hands in his. “As all children flock to you, and I do not think Frodo will be any different.” 

Thorin could only manage a worried look in reply. Bilbo patted his hand in comfort before they left Bag End, down Bagshot Row, and to Buckland. 

By the time they arrived, much of Thorin’s worry had quieted. What Bilbo had said was true. He’d been good with his nephews and the children in the Shire would indeed flock to him the moment he stepped outside of Bag End. 

Rorimac, one of Bilbo’s cousins, welcomed them inside. 

“Good to see you again, Rory,” Bilbo said, setting his pack down. “I’ll see myself to Frodo, first, if you don’t mind.” 

“No, that is quite fine, cousin,” Rorimac said, offering Thorin a smile before addressing Bilbo again. “He’s been asking after you since you left.” 

“Thorin, dear, wait here. I’ll bring Frodo out.” Bilbo disappeared with Rorimac into the hall, leaving Thorin standing in the parlor. 

They came back down the hall, Bilbo accompanied now by a younger hobbit. He had dark hair and striking pair of blue eyes, and if Thorin had not known himself, he could certainly think the young hobbit a child of his and Bilbo’s. 

He shook the thought from his mind as Bilbo came over to his side. 

“Frodo,” Bilbo said. “This is Thorin. I’ve told you about him, you remember?” 

Frodo looked at Thorin and then hid behind Rorimac’s leg. “Ah,” said the other hobbit. 

Bilbo squeezed Thorin’s hand before stepping towards Frodo. “He’s very nice, my boy. I promise he will not bite or anything.” 

After a moment, Frodo crept out from behind his uncle and towards Bilbo and Thorin. 

“Hello,” he said, staring at Thorin. 

Thorin had the thought now and knelt down. He hoped it made him less intimidating for the hobbit. “Thorin Oakenshield, at your service.” 

A shy smile crept onto Frodo’s face. “Bilbo said that is how you greet others..” 

“Indeed it is,” Thorin said, smiling warmly. “And did he tell you how family greets one another among family?” 

Frodo did not say anything but he, to Thorin’s surprise, bonked their heads together lightly. “That’s what he said. Is it right?” 

A full smile broke upon Thorin’s mouth. “Aye,” he said, reaching up to ruffle Frodo’s hair, “that is correct.” 


	49. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS SAID: I love your writing so much! If you're still doing prompts, could you do one where thorin thinks bilbos dead (but he's not ofc)? Thank you so much for these short fics!

Thorin drags himself to his feet, wincing in pain. His breath comes out in a heavy, gasping sigh as he moves away from the dead orc’s form. He leaves Orcrist behind, for a moment, as he limps towards the cliff’s edge. Beneath him, in the valley, the battle wages on. 

He watches as the tide of the battle changes. 

Thorin’s shoulders drop for a moment as he lets out another breath. Despite the pain, he has to join the battle in the valley. He wrenches his sword from Azog’s body, staring at the orc until he can breathe properly. 

It doesn’t feel real but the dwarf walks away, scanning Ravenhill. He cannot hear any nearby brawls, which is good but potentially bad for him. Thorin grips Orcrist tightly as he hurries up the steep steps. 

When he returns to where he had left Bilbo and Dwalin behind, he finds several dead goblins and orcs. Not a surprise there. He moves forward and then stops dead. The blue coat catches his eye. 

Bilbo lays on the ground. 

Thorin stumbles forward and then drops onto his knees, dropping Orcrist as he scoops up Bilbo’s limp form. His chest fills with terror. 

“Bilbo..” Thorin strokes Bilbo’s cheek, his hand trembling. 

This shouldn’t have happened. Not Bilbo… Bilbo should have gone home, after everything. Thorin swallows and then finds the wound on the hobbit’s head. It doesn’t look deep but it does look like he took a hit hard to the head. 

Thorin doesn’t register the tears running down his cheek. A loud caw startles Thorin, though, and he looks up to the sky. An eagle flies over them, easily recognizable from months ago. His mouth opens in surprise. 

A twitch in his arms and a groan startles the dwarf even more. He looks down. Bilbo stares blearily up at him. 

Thorin’s mouth opens wider. 

“Thorin?” Bilbo groans again, hand coming up to his head. “Ugh..”

The dwarf pulls Bilbo against his chest, crushing them together. Bilbo makes a disgruntled noise. 

“Thorin! Let me breathe, please, and tell me what’s going on.” Even with his injury, Bilbo is still  _Bilbo_. Thorin relaxes his grip on the hobbit. But he does not let the hobbit out of his arms. 

“You must have hit your head,” Thorin answers, prodding at the injury. 

Bilbo yelps and smacks Thorin hand away. “Stop that. Where… where’s Azog?” 

Thorin meets Bilbo’s eyes. “I killed him.” Saying the statement makes it feel realer. Bilbo gasps and then Thorin finds the hobbit wrapping around him. 

“Thank goodness,” Bilbo murmurs, squeezing Thorin with surprising strength. “Oh..” 

Bilbo pulls back. Thorin stares at him. The relief of everything, of the dead orc, of Bilbo being alive, it culminates. His hands tremble but they cup Bilbo’s face carefully as he brings their mouths together in a messy attempt at a kiss. 

Bilbo nearly knocks him over. They have a moment, at least for now.


End file.
